


Hunting Season

by hobbitgrl



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, and it's definitely at least mediocre, but at least my karmic slate is balanced once again, chapter one is dark kids so please take note of the warnings, it's hurt comfort though so once you get past the hurt i promise you get the comfort, so i think we can all agree the wait was worth it? no...no we cannot, the prompt I was responding to is included at the top, this story only took me a decade to finish, yes this is cross-posted since ff.net is where i first started this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 38,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28880499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitgrl/pseuds/hobbitgrl
Summary: A/N: This was written in response to the following prompt by eleventhimpala on milady_milord lj.Prompt:  2.  Dark!Fic - X is a sadistic serial killer/rapist. He is a master of deception, having everybody - well, mostly everybody - under his good guy spell. His next target...Annie Edison. She's going to be his masterpiece. Jeff (and bonus points if Britta is his sidekick) has to prove/stop him. Two condition clauses: a) *deleted* but I'm following it. b) Slater's body has to be found, the work of the killer.Well, it took over 10 years and a global pandemic, but I’ve finally finished this. It’s not perfect, but it’s done. Not sure if I’ll finish anything else I’ve started and abandoned (in the privacy of my own laptop) over the years but seems like anything's possible at the moment.WARNINGS: This is dark kids. There's stalking (of the not sexy kind). There's rape. There's violence. There's language. If any of these things bothers you or offends you please do not read. Please. I decided if I was going to do it, I was going to go all the way. You have been warned.
Relationships: Annie Edison/Jeff Winger
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was written in response to the following prompt by eleventhimpala on milady_milord lj.   
> Prompt: 2. Dark!Fic - X is a sadistic serial killer/rapist. He is a master of deception, having everybody - well, mostly everybody - under his good guy spell. His next target...Annie Edison. She's going to be his masterpiece. Jeff (and bonus points if Britta is his sidekick) has to prove/stop him. Two condition clauses: a) *deleted* but I'm following it. b) Slater's body has to be found, the work of the killer.
> 
> Well, it took over 10 years and a global pandemic, but I’ve finally finished this. It’s not perfect, but it’s done. Not sure if I’ll finish anything else I’ve started and abandoned (in the privacy of my own laptop) over the years but seems like anything's possible at the moment.
> 
> WARNINGS: This is dark kids. There's stalking (of the not sexy kind). There's rape. There's violence. There's language. If any of these things bothers you or offends you please do not read. Please. I decided if I was going to do it, I was going to go all the way. You have been warned.

**Chapter 1: Hurt**

He liked it when they screamed. Sometimes, when they were too terrified to yell, he had trouble getting aroused. Then he had to hurt them more. He didn't want to hurt them. But they needed to understand. They needed to _care_. Their silence reminded him of his mother, so cold and detached. Their screams reminded him of his mother too—the mother who had finally understood. The mother who loved him.

***

Annie felt her stomach bottom out as the TV cut to a special emergency broadcast.

“We're sorry to interrupt your regularly scheduled afternoon programming, but we bring a special message, live, from the Denver Chief of Police:

_Good Afternoon everyone. The Denver Police Department, working in cooperation with the FBI, is officially issuing a warning to all women with brown hair between the ages of 25 and 40. With the discovery of a third victim the 'Colorado Strangler' has officially been declared a serial killer. We have dedicated every resource to discovering the identity of this killer, but we cannot, in good conscience, continue without asking the public to be aware of this issue. If you are a woman who fits the profile released by the FBI we would ask that you stay home after dark, and, if you must go out, always have a friend and some sort of protective gear at hand. If, at any point you begin to fear for your safety please take note of our Emergency Phones placed throughout the city. There is one located at every bus stop in the greater Denver metropolitan area. Thank you_.

“If you are just tuning in now,” a severe looking woman at a news desk spoke as the broadcast cut away from the scene outside the police station, “the 'Colorado Strangler' has officially been declared a serial killer by Denver's Chief of Police James Keaton. What started with the tragic death of 30-year-old Maureen Clemmons has escalated into a terrifying and vicious attack on brunettes living in and around the greater Denver metropolitan area. Several comparisons have been made to New York's Son of Sam killer as women run in droves to beauty salons, dying their hair blond and red in a desperate attempt to escape this monster's notice.”

Annie was frozen in front of the television, her coat half on and her keys digging into her hand as the emergency broadcast droned on. Maureen Clemons. Rachel McIntyre. _When would they release the name of the third victim?_ she wondered. Did they finally find Professor Slater? She’d been missing for weeks; everyone was thinking the same thing, but none of them said it. If they said it, it would be real. But Annie knew. Annie knew it was already too real.

“Annie?” Troy asked quietly. “Annie are you okay?”

_No_ , she wanted to scream. _No! Haven’t you seen the letters? Haven’t you seen the texts?_ But he hadn’t. No one had. The first letter only came three days ago, and she'd shredded it immediately, then sliced the shreds until her fingers were too big to grab the tiny slivers of paper. The texts had started that night like he'd known the exact day the letter would be delivered. Every four hours on the hour. It was all a joke, just a stupid joke. But if she showed them to Troy, he would tell Abed and Abed would tell Jeff and Jeff would...Jeff would…

_You’re next_.

Annie tried to talk, but nothing came out. She tried to reassure Troy, explain to him that it was a joke—not a very funny joke—and she was just on edge. She couldn't be next because she was too young; hadn’t the FBI just warned women between the ages of 25 and 40? She was 21. Clearly someone with a prepaid phone had a grudge against her. It was probably Annie Kim. She was bitch enough to do it.

It was infuriating that Annie couldn't believe her own lie, and now Troy knew something was wrong. She just had to calm down, Annie told herself, remember that it was all a terrible, awful joke. She didn't have time for this; she had things to do. She had to walk out that door and get on a bus. She had a diorama to finish and a paper to write and it was a just a joke. She was being paranoid because that's what she did and there was no reason to be scared.

_I’m coming for you Annie Edison_.

“Annie,” Abed said from somewhere. “Annie your silence confuses me. Are you in shock?”

The emergency broadcast finished, and the sounds of cartoons filled the apartment once again. Annie should be screaming and freaking out. She should be throwing a fit and demanding that they never ever leave her alone. But all she could think about was Maureen Clemmons—just one more nameless girl that no one had known or cared about until she was dead. A girl with no connections to Annie or anyone Annie knew, but she'd been Annie's height, her hair the same color as Annie's. She'd had blue eyes too.

She was found dead and naked off I-70; a highway with thousands of people on it every day and no one had seen a thing. No one had paid any attention to the dead, naked girl laying there tortured, raped, and strangled. Annie felt her eyes drift shut, trying to block out that first newscast, trying to what—pretend it wasn't happening? Pretend she wasn't going to die?

She heard Troy and Abed talking somewhere behind her, maybe in their blanket room but her thoughts had turned vague and her vision fuzzy. Her friends loved her, she knew that, but if she told them about this, they would start treating her like a kid again. They would treat her like she was weak, and Annie _hated_ that—it reminded her too much of her mother. Troy would freak out, Abed would shut down, Pierce would probably hire a bodyguard, Shirley would bake incessantly, Britta would make her go to lectures about female empowerment and victimization, and Jeff...Jeff would ignore it. He would ignore it and ignore her because Jeff didn't do big emotions—definitely not these sorts of emotions.

So, Annie would stay silent until whoever this was caught her, and then she would disappear for weeks. They would all look for her, of course, but no one would find her. Where did he keep them, she wondered? Where would he keep her? Chained up? Locked in a room? Buried alive?

_Little Annie Adderall_

_Scared and weak she cried some more._

_With no one there to catch her fall_

_I FINALLY CAUGHT THE DIRTY WHORE._

That little ditty had come through ten minutes ago. She should have gone directly to the police. She should have told Troy and Abed and Jeff and Britta and Shirley. Even telling Pierce would have been better than staying silent. What if those letters helped the police find Slater? Oh God she had killed Slater. What if she—what if they… 

It was that thought, far too little far too late, that finally made Annie feel something. What if those letters, the letters she shredded and threw away, could have helped the police find Slater?

“Jeff?” Abed said from somewhere far away, “you need to come over right now.”

“No,” Annie whispered, trying to pull it together, trying to force her body into action. She didn’t want Jeff. Jeff couldn't do anything; she was already too late. She had killed Slater. She knew—she _knew—_ that he had her and she’d done nothing.

“What was that Annie?” Troy asked softly. His hand was still above her shoulder, like he was afraid to touch her.

“She saw the announcement about the Strangler and froze,” Abed went on. “Cool. Cool cool cool. Jeff’s on his way.”

“No!” Annie screamed, throwing herself forward and falling on her knees. “Don’t! Don’t touch me!” Troy reared back as if burnt and Abed jumped at her cry.

“Annie you need to tell us what’s wrong,” Troy tried again.

“Not Jeff,” she said quietly, unable to get her breathing under control. _Little Annie Adderall…_ “He’ll yell at me.” _Scared and weak she cried some more_.

“Why would Jeff yell at you?” Abed asked. _With no one there to catch her fall…_

“I’m ne—ne—next,” she stammered out. Why couldn’t she breathe? Why was her face wet? Oh fuck, _fuck_ she’d killed Slater. _I FINALLY CAUGHT THE DIRTY WHORE!_

“What do you mean?” Troy asked.

_Whore_.

“I’m,” Annie tried again, unable to speak around the tremors wracking her body. _Whore_. “I’m next,” she pushed out. She killed Slater. It was her fault; it was all her fault. What had she done?

_You’re next_.

“Next what?” Abed asked slowly.

“H-h-he told me…I was next,” she whispered.

_You’re a whore Annie. Do you know what happens to whores?_

“Annie,” Troy said sharply. She looked up at him and it was there on his face. He'd finally caught on.

“Have you been shredding letters?” Abed asked. He started to pace; his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Yes,” Annie admitted in a harsh whisper. She was hugging her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth now—he was coming for her. They had found the third victim. He was coming for her. She had killed Slater.

_You’re next Annie. Soon_.

Troy and Abed moved away from her and began speaking in urgent whispers. That stupid cartoon was still playing in the background and Annie buried her head in her arms—she wanted to break the TV. She wanted to punch someone, something.

_I want to know what you taste like_.

When a hard knock rattled the door, she jerked and screamed. Troy ran and threw open the deadbolts before Jeff could knock again; Annie heard his heavy steps as he pounded in and felt his stare as it zeroed in on her, huddled and rocking on the floor.

“What the hell?” Jeff asked.

_I can’t wait to find out._

“I’m sorry,” Annie sobbed. “I’m so, so sorry.” Jeff had dated Slater; he liked Slater. And Annie had killed her. Annie had killed his ex-girlfriend and he would never ever forgive her.

“Annie,” Jeff said gently, dropping to the floor next to her and pulling her into a hug. “What’s going on?”

She didn’t know why she let Jeff touch her—maybe because she knew he would hate her for this. Maybe because she wanted to believe it was going to be okay—they could find Slater and save her...

_I’m going to do so much more than taste you Annie_.

“Annie’s the next target of the Strangler,” Abed blurted.

She felt him convulse, his arms tightening around her. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered burying her face deeper into her arms. “I’m so, so sorry.” It was all she could say.

“Annie,” Jeff said carefully. “What are you talking about?”

_You’ll never see your friends again._

“He’s coming for me Jeff,” she said, finally raising her head and meeting his worried gaze. “He’s coming for me and I haven’t done anything to stop it. I killed Slater. I let her die.”

_Little Annie Adderall…_

***

Jeff couldn’t process Annie’s words. It was all too ridiculous, even for Greendale.

“Annie, I don’t—” he began, but she cut him off. Her hands shot out and fisted in his shirt, fingers digging in like claws and yanking his face close to hers.

“I killed Slater,” she bit off at him.

“No, you didn’t,” Abed said.

“I did,” she argued. “I did and I’m so sorry. He sent me a letter and I didn’t want to believe it. I thought it was a joke, but then the texts came and so I just shut my phone off because it couldn’t be real. And we didn’t know Slater was missing until yesterday or I swear I would have gone to the police, but I thought it was a joke. I just thought it was a joke…” She trailed off as tears welled and spilled down her cheeks. Jeff felt his heart stutter in his chest. He looked helplessly at Troy and Abed hoping one of them might know something, be able to do something but they only shrugged.

“Annie,” he said, looking back at her. “ANNIE.” He gave her a little shake, hoping to—what? Shake some sense into her? It wasn't like there was an appropriate way to react to serial killers targeting you. He let his arms circle her again, one hand rubbing her circles on her back as he tried to process. She was trembling slightly, her body shuddering in his arms and he felt lost, useless.

“I need to see your phone,” he finally said. “We’re going to call the cops. Abed—search the garbage for the shredded letters. Troy call the cops.”

“Cool,” Abed answered, going to the trash and pulling the bag out immediately.

“On it!” Troy said, already pulling out his phone as he walked into the blanket fort.

“Okay Annie, I need your phone,” he said, gently turning back to Annie's huddled form. He felt her take a deep breath, and then another before she finally shifted, pulling her phone out of her pocket and looking up at him. Her teeth were digging into her lower lip, but her jaw was set; she was petrified, but she was coherent. He wanted to fix this, to make it so she didn't have to deal with this, but even he had to admit this was beyond him.

Jeff was the king of denial; if Greendale offered a major in “How to Ignore Everything You're Feeling All the Time” he'd be the poster boy. It was the curse of being a fake; the best lie was the one you believed, and Jeff had mastered the art of believing his lies decades ago. It was likely he hadn't been honest about anything he felt since he was a kid.

But he couldn't ignore this. This _asshole_ was harassing Annie, so Jeff focused on what he could fix. He flat-out refused to believe Slater was involved; Michelle had gone on vacation and, sure, no one had heard from her for a few days, but she was fine. They were all overreacting because Slater was nobody's fool; she was smart and capable, and Jeff knew she could handle herself. If ever there was a woman Jeff hadn't worried about it was Michelle Slater.

_You’re lying again_ , a voice said inside him. _Fuck off,_ Jeff snarled at it.

He would help Annie—they would all protect her until the cops found the guy, and everybody would go home happy and healthy. Except for the three murdered women. But Jeff didn't know them, and people died every day. Not his problem. Annie was his problem; Annie was his friend. She was the only one he had to protect.

Jeff took her phone and unlocked it, opening the text thread—at least she hadn’t deleted any of them. Then he stared for a minute, shocked. Something had landed on his chest, and he couldn't breathe right. There were a dozen at least—messages and stupid rhymes and threats and promises and he felt something unfurl inside of him as he scanned them all quickly. They got more and more sexual as they progressed and the things they said, the things they promised—he refused what he was feeling, channeling it all into anger, a white-hot rage that made his hand squeeze around Annie's phone, the plastic cracking in protest.

“Jeff,” she whispered harshly, her fingers digging into his pant leg. “Jeff, he has Slater.”

His breath hitched but with that, at least, he was committed to his ignorance. They’d all been told Slater was missing yesterday; the Dean had told Jeff and Jeff had told the study group. But, like Jeff told them, Michelle had gone on vacation and she'd probably just missed her flight and lost her phone. Happened all the time.

“No, he doesn't,” he stated, “I'm sure she's fine. Slater's not going to let anybody—“

“He told me,” Annie interrupted, “in today’s letter he told me he’d ‘had a taste of Greendale.’”

“Abed don’t touch that letter!” he yelled. They were all going to ruin the evidence and then the police wouldn't have anything to go on.

“I would never corrupt evidence,” Abed said as he walked into Annie’s room “I was merely peeking in to ensure the letter was where Annie thought she left it.”

“The cops will be here any minute,” Troy told them all, stepping back out from the blanket fort.

“Yup it's still on her bed!” Abed called.

“He didn't say anything specifically about Slater?” Jeff asked her.

“No, but I—I know,” she told him earnestly. “I just know.”

“Annie,” Jeff forced her to look at him, ignoring and repressing like a champ. “Annie, he doesn't have Slater. He could have anyone—it could mean anything.”

“But I could have gone to the police!” she shrieked. “I should have gone to the police!”

“Maybe,” he conceded. “But what he did, what he's doing is not your fault. You aren't responsible for him Annie.”

He could tell she didn't believe him, but she let it drop, pulling away from him and moving to the couch where she curled up in a ball and sat quietly. Scrubbing a hand through his hair Jeff rose from the floor and went into her bedroom. He wasn't sure he believed himself. He wasn't sure of anything right now. These letters were evidence—what if he was wrong about Michelle? What if...

Fuck what if. He couldn't think about that now. Michelle was fine. She was fine and she was probably home, completely unaware they were all worried about her.

_I **s** A_w **Yo** _U_ ON _ca **m pus** t_oDaY.

Y **o** u weR **E** _So_ beA **U** **T _if_** uL.

i'V **e h**A _d_ A t _a_ **S** tE _of_ G **r** EE _n_ **d** Ale

AnD _N_ **o** W I _' **ll** _H ** _av_** E YOU.

It went on from there and Jeff swallowed the heartburn suddenly choking him. This monster had someone from Greendale, and he was coming after Annie. Jeff clung to the anger; he was going to find him. And he was going to stop him.

He worked on keeping himself busy while they waited for the police. He needed to move, to be doing something. This _waiting_ was killing him. Was someone missing from Greendale? Had the police even been looking? There was nothing about a missing fourth victim on the news today; they'd found the third body, but it wasn’t a Greendale student as far as Jeff knew.

When the cops and FBI finally showed it was controlled chaos, taking the garbage, the letter, and Annie's cell phone. Someone talked to her while someone else grilled him, Troy and Abed. All the while bodies wandered around looking and peeking and generally pissing Jeff off. He was glad they were there, happy they were taking this seriously, but why were there so many of them? Why weren't more people out on the streets, trying to find out if there was a fourth victim?

When her phone rang, Jeff's heart stuttered and started up again; he needed something to _do_ and he hated himself for it.

“Who's Rich?” the agent with her phone asked.

“Oh,” Annie sighed, “I was supposed to volunteer with him tonight. He's probably wondering where I am.”

“Who is he?” the agent asked again.

“He's a student a Greendale,” Annie shrugged. “He's a doctor and takes classes part time—they know him.” The agent swung her gaze around to the three men being questioned in the corner at Annie's weak wave. Jeff shrugged and tried not to think about Annie and Rich still working together.

“Can I call him back?” Annie asked. “He's probably worried about me.”

“We'll be done soon,” the agent replied coldly. “You can make your phone calls then.”

“Okay,” Annie said looking back down at the ground.

“Are you trying to hinder this investigation Miss Edison?” the agent pushed.

“What? No!” Annie snapped up. “Why would I try to hinder it? I called you!”

“Your friend called us. And apparently,” the agent consulted her notebook, “not until three days after the first letter came.”

“I didn't think it was real,” she whispered.

“And when Professor Slater was discovered missing?”

“I don't—I don't know,” she stammered.

“And when the first two victims were found less than ten miles from Greendale? The third victim was dumped less than a block away.”

“I didn't know,” she said, shoulders caving in.

“You didn't?” the agent pushed. “Or you didn't want to?”

“Hey that's enough!” Jeff called out. “She's not a suspect here.”

“Everyone's a suspect here,” the agent answered. “Including you.”

By the time the cops and FBI left Annie looked exhausted and Jeff felt wrung out. But he also felt his instincts—instincts that had dried up since coming to Greendale—tingling. Jeff had made a great lawyer for two reasons; the first was that he was great at bullshitting. To this day he had never met anyone better at talking a lie into truth than himself. The second was because he had a great bullshit meter. When people lied to him, he _always_ knew—always. And the FBI was lying; everyone was not a suspect. They already had a suspect.

“Hi Rich,” he heard, spinning around to see Annie on the phone. “Sorry about not making it tonight, yeah I'm just feeling a little under the weather. I think maybe it's food poisoning. No, I'll be in class on Thursday. Sure, I'd love to have breakfast. 9 o'clock? Sounds great. See you then.” By the time she hung up Jeff was looming in front of her, his brow furrowed as he saw the bags under her eyes, the waxy complexion, the way her hands wouldn't quite stop shaking.

“Do you really think breakfast dates are the best idea right now?” he asked.

“Rich is worried about me Jeff,” she sighed. “I haven't missed a day of volunteering since I started. And you know what? I don’t know what the best idea is right now, but I’m sure whatever _you’re_ thinking is brilliant!”

“I'm staying here tonight,” Jeff told them all, ignoring her outburst. “Troy, Abed, and either me, Britta, Pierce, or Shirley will be with you _at all times_. You will not walk alone. You will not go to class alone. You will not go to 'breakfast dates' alone. Is that understood?”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but we both know how you feel about Rich,” Annie shot back, “So I will accept company at all times _except_ with Rich because he's Rich. I'm safe with him and you would know that if you weren't jealous. Someone can walk with me to the cafeteria, but Rich will walk me to class.”

“Don't be a child Annie,” Jeff snarled at her, “there's a serial killer after you. Jealousy doesn't factor in here—the only people we're sure about are each other. Even Rich is suspect.”

“Wow,” Annie said, walking away from him. “I'm being a 'child' am I? Why is that exactly? Because I won't do what you say? Well, you heard the FBI— _everyone_ is a suspect so if we want to play it really safe, I should just lock myself in my room until they catch the guy or he comes charging in after me!”

“Annie!” Jeff hollered, but she slammed her bedroom door in his face. Spinning in frustration he snarled at Troy and Abed. “I need a pillow for the couch.”

“Yeah,” Troy said slowly, “maybe you should let one of us talk to Annie from now on.”

“Whatever,” he dismissed them, dropping to one of the chairs and picking up the remote. Troy and Abed shared a look before sitting down on either side of him. He knew he was being an ass, but he couldn't care. There was a girl missing and the same guy was after Annie. And Slater—he just needed to find Michelle and talk to her. She was fine. He was sure of it.

***

He knew when she finally told them, and he smiled as Winger pull up to the curb and practically ran inside. Winger—the untouchable king of Greendale. He knew Annie panted after Winger. He'd seen them together, the way she would watch him when she thought he wasn't looking. The way she would throw herself at him. That was when he realized she was a whore like all the others. He had thought she was special. He had thought she was pure. But Jeff Winger dirtied them all.

Angered and excited he went home to the Professor that night. Her eyes widened when she saw him and he just stood there a moment, growing hard at her terror. He loved this part—the anticipation. She was chained to the basement wall, her hands held captive above her head high enough to keep her on tip toe. He found that exhausted them so they couldn't kick him when he approached. He didn't like being kicked. 

Sliding up next to her, he removed the gag and reveled in her screams. She thought they were still in town, that someone might hear her calls for help. He loved letting them think there was a chance. It was so much sweeter when they fought.

Running his hands down her arms and across her torso she tried to pull back from him, but the chains limited her movement; her body was cramped and weak. He let them down sometimes so they could regain their strength, but he hadn't let her down in a long, long time. He was almost done with her. Tonight would be the end. 

Unzipping his pants, he watched her watch him. The way her eyes widened, and she started to cry. Sometimes they stopped crying after the first few times and then he had to kill them early. He couldn't help them if they weren't there with him. They needed to be punished, to know he cared. The Professor knew he cared—she was his favorite so far and his cock swelled just thinking about how good Annie would be, how she would cry and scream and beg. He'd kept the Professor alive so much longer than he should, but she was so close to Annie, so like her. She'd _touched_ Annie. He wanted to revel in that; sometimes he could imagine he was touching Annie while he touched her.

She was whimpering now, stupid pathetic sounds that irritated him, so he closed his fist and punched her, smiling when her head snapped back into the wall. She was dazed and semi-unconscious and he took his time positioning himself. He let his hands stroke up and down her body, feeling the warmth of her skin for the last time. She screamed out as he pushed, tensing around him and he let his head fall back in bliss. He loved it when they cried. The chains clinked against the wall in time with his grunts, a macabre accompaniment to his movements.

He was so close when brought his hands up, letting his fingers circle the slender column of her throat. He was thinking about Annie, his dear, sweet Annie. Oh, how she would fight. He would teach her, he promised himself. He would make her understand. She was thrashing again, fighting for air as his fingers convulsed, strangling her while his body jerked and finished. He stayed there, still inside her as her eyes glazed and she started to cool around him.

They always died so fast. Stepping back, the chains clinked again as her body fell back, limp against the wall. He tucked himself back in and started upstairs for the plastic and duct tape. Annie wouldn't die so easily—no Annie would last until the end. Little Annie was strong; she would feel everything. Annie Edison would be his masterpiece.

He grew hard again just thinking about it.

*******

By time Annie made it to the cafeteria with Troy she was feeling more claustrophobic than safe.

“And then KickPuncher uses his kickpunch to knock the guy through the wall!”

“Troy I was there,” Annie reminded him with a sigh. “We watched the movie together. All four times.”

“Oh right,” Troy nodded, “sorry. I just like talking about movies.”

“I know,” Annie agreed with a tired smile.

“Hi Rich!” Troy shouted as they pushed through the cafeteria doors. Troy ran over to him like they were long lost best friends and Annie followed more slowly behind. She just wanted a moment alone with Rich; she wanted to eat breakfast with him and laugh like they used to when they were dragging the river. She wanted to spend time with someone who didn't treat her like spun glass.

“Annie,” he said, turning from Troy with a gentle smile. “I'm so happy you could have breakfast with me.”

Smiling back Annie felt that same flutter in her stomach every time Rich looked at her. He was just so—so _perfect_. “Hi Rich,” she said with a small giggle.

“Troy would you mind getting us all a cup of coffee?” Rich asked him cheerfully, holding out a twenty.

“Of course!” Troy agreed readily, taking the money and heading over to the very long coffee line, whistling.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Annie asked coyly.

“What me?” Rich feigned innocence. “Ask Troy to get us all coffee so I could have two minutes alone with my good friend Annie? I would never.”

“Oh Rich,” Annie swatted his arm lightly across the table. “I'm glad you asked me to breakfast. It's been a long time since we hung out.”

“I've been busy,” he said easily. “But I was hoping, maybe—I'm thrilled to see Troy, you know how much I adore he and Abed—but I had hoped, perhaps, it could just be the two of us?”

Annie blushed at that; she knew it was odd to bring Troy to their friendly breakfast date. She didn't have an excuse and “a serial killer wants to rape and strangle me” seemed a little too heavy for nine o'clock in the morning. But Jeff had insisted.

“I'm always happy to spend time with all of your friends,” Rich continued softly, glancing up at her with a look in his eyes she'd never seen from him before. “It's just—I miss our mornings together, dragging the river, taking sandwiches to the homeless folk—you know I’ve—I've been thinking…thinking a lot about when you asked me out.”

Annie thoughts snapped away from her irritation with Jeff. “What?”

“Well,” Rich blushed sweetly, “I thought, you know, golly this is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I was going to talk to you at the soup kitchen but then you were sick so I thought maybe we could talk at breakfast. You know, if that were something you were interested in.”

She found herself smiling at the way he stammered that out. His reticence was sweet. She'd obviously been spending too much time with Jeff since a normal man talking to a normal girl, stammers and all, made her heart flip flop in her chest.

“Talk about what?” she asked with a small smile.

“Talk about whether, well, whether you would like to go out with me.” He said it so sweetly she couldn't help the way her smile widened into a delighted grin. She had to say no of course, she was being hunted by a serial killer after all, but her eyes wandered past Troy standing in line so patiently for coffee, and she thought about Jeff staying the night. Jeff ordering her around. Jeff kissing her and pushing her away; flirting with her and saying it was all in her head. She remembered the way Troy and Abed called _him_ as if she were somehow _his_ responsibility to protect and keep safe. What would it be like, she wondered, to live in a world that didn't revolve around Jeff Winger? What would it be like to go out with someone else?

“If this is a bad time,” Rich backtracked quickly, “or if you're not interested, I promise I value our friendship far too much to be offended. Please don't feel pressured! I know I'm older than you and if you feel the age gap is—“

“Rich I would love to go out on a date,” Annie interrupted him, reaching across the table and taking his hands in her own. Looking up she shyly met his eyes. A date with Rich wasn't being alone and she knew he was strong and capable. He'd been taking karate almost as long as her. She would be more vulnerable on a date with Jeff. Rich met her smile with a shy one of his own and turned his hands around, wrapping his long, strong fingers around hers and squeezing gently.

“How about tonight? Six? I hear Maggiano's has some lovely specials on Friday night,” he said, looking down at their entwined hands.

“Can I—" Annie paused, feeling a sudden unease and unsure why. “Can I ask why now? I thought I was too young.”

“You weren't too young Annie,” he told her, not looking away from her direct stare. Unlike Jeff he didn't change the subject or turn the tables on her. Rich met her question with a refreshing openness and honesty. “I was scared. But why take Anthropology? Why fight to volunteer with you? I think—well, I don't know why I said no when you asked me out last winter, except that I was scared. I really…I really enjoy talking to you, spending time with you. But I'm not brave Annie. I'm not brave and I didn't want to hurt our friendship.”

“Oh Rich,” she sighed. Could this be happening? Could Rich really be asking her out on a date? A real date?

“Here's your coffee!” Troy said cheerily. “Who wants cream?”

Releasing his hands Annie pulled back to her side of the table and scooted over to make room for Troy. “Six is fine.”

She and Rich shared a secret grin as Troy launched into another synopsis of _Kickpuncher 2_ , seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents flowing between her and Rich. Troy was just thrilled to have someone else to talk to about the movie. Annie didn't mind listening so much this time—she was too busy figuring out what she would wear on her date.

Rich walked her to class letting a relieved Troy off the hook to finish last minute homework. They talked easily and Annie couldn’t squelch the happy grin dominating her face as she took her seat next to Britta.

“What’s with the doctor and the smiles?” Britta asked, eying her smile with suspicion. Jeff had laid it all out for the study group yesterday. They'd agreed on “shifts” and even Pierce was taking his assignment seriously. Except for Rich, her day would be spent with Troy, Britta, Shirley, and Abed; it was sweet, maybe even necessary, but Annie found herself already feeling stifled. She was tired of the worrying glances and pitying treatment. Sometimes it felt like she was dead already.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Annie tried to brush it off, unwilling to get into it with Britta.

“Troy was supposed to walk you to class,” Britta narrowed her eyes. “Rich is _not_ part of this study group.”

“Well, he would be if Jeff hadn’t Wingered him out of it,” Annie said sharply.

“Wingered him?”

“You know,” Annie shrugged, “used one of his speeches to convince Shirley to vote for Chang.”

“Everybody’s a suspect Annie,” Britta said more gently, reaching out and patting her arm. “You can’t trust Rich.”

“Why not?” she said exasperated. Everybody treated her like a child! “Because he’s too nice or because he’s a doctor? Maybe because no one else at this school has helped more people or done more for the environment? You’re right Britta, he’s _obviously_ a serial killer!”

People were staring now, but Annie didn’t care. She was tired of being babysat and judged. She was tired of never having a moment alone. She was tired of being told what to do and feeling like she was being watched all the time. 

She was tired of being scared. 

The teacher walked in as she finished her outburst and Annie retreated to her chair gnawing on her lower lip. Britta ignored her, turning back towards the front and she felt bad for yelling but not bad enough to apologize. She was stuck with Britta until Shirley showed up with cookies and a smile, but they didn’t talk to each other again. Britta and Shirley made the hand off and Annie thought about apologizing, of inviting Britta to share a cookie, but she couldn't; her friends were wonderful, but they never understood. Shirley rambled on about her kids, Andre, and her computer class, but Annie wasn’t listening. Her mind was already on tonight, and the few blessed moments alone she would get with Rich.

By the time she got home and escaped to the safety of her room she was feeling almost normal and she tore through her closet for an outfit to wear. She had a date—an honest to god romantic interaction with someone who was good looking, stable, and intelligent. She hadn't received another letter and the text messages had stopped yesterday. Things were looking up and Annie was beginning to believe it had all been some sort of sick joke. She still hadn’t apologized to Britta, but then again, Britta hadn’t apologized to her, so she figured they were even. It was almost six, and Annie watched the clock like a hawk—she was going to get out of this apartment and away from _Kickpuncher_. She could hardly wait.

Listening to the sounds of Troy and Abed from the living room she twirled examining the latest outfit in her mirror with a critical eye. Sighing she waved away the persistent feeling of guilt; she was going to go on a date with a handsome doctor. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She wouldn’t be alone. Still, it felt risky, but before she could think too hard about it a knock on her door interrupted her.

“Come in!”

“Are you gonna come watch the movie?” Jeff asked as he opened the door. He stopped, dumbstruck as his eyes scanned her room before doing a full perusal of her. “What are you doing?”

“I'm going out tonight” Annie replied, giving herself one more look in the mirror and deciding this was the dress. “I have a date! What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Jeff asked as if she was speaking another language. “Who are you going on a date with? Have you forgotten the part where there's a _killer_ after you? You're not going anywhere!”

“It's with Rich,” Annie said, as if that made it all better. She walked to her bureau and rooted through it for jewelry, ignoring the way Jeff's face was going purple.

“Rich?!” Jeff reared back as if struck. “I hate that guy!”

“Jeff!” Annie snapped. “This isn’t about you! You gave up any rights to complain about who I date a long time ago!”

“Annie it’s always about me,” Jeff returned. “I gave up dates of my own so I could come watch Kickface with Major Meta and his Constable Crazy because I thought we were all on the same page here! You can't go on dates! You can't go out with Rich!”

“Well, you’re not doing me any favors,” Annie told him, turning away from him to check her full outfit in the mirror then relented, meeting his judgmental stare with a sigh. “I'll be as safe with Rich as anyone Jeff. He knows karate, first aid—he's spent time in actual war zones. And—”

“And?” Jeff prompted sarcastically.

“And I don't feel scared when I'm with him!”

“Well,” Jeff said, “forgive us, _your friends_ , if we insist on making you live in the real world.”

“I am living in the real world,” she hissed.

“There’s a _serial killer_ out there Annie,” Jeff told her, stepping fully into her room and shutting the door behind him. “There’s a monster out there targeting girls that look exactly like you. He knows where you live. He has your phone number.”

“And I will be with Rich,” Annie told him, standing her ground.

“Rich couldn’t keep a teddy bear safe,” Jeff threw his hands up in the air. “If a kid came at it with a chainsaw he’d smile and hand the damn thing right over.”

“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think.”

“Maybe you’re letting your schoolgirl crush get in the way of common sense.”

“Wow,” Annie shook her head at him. “You really are something you know that? Crazy Annie and her ‘schoolgirl crushes.’ Gee Jeff, where would I be if I didn’t have you here to tell me what to do! Have fun watching your movie. I’m going on my date.” Grabbing her jacket and purse Annie stormed out, ignoring Jeff as he called after her. Ripping the front door open she slammed it behind her with a satisfying echo. She paused in the hallway, the adrenaline of anger giving way suddenly to a moment of panic. Was she being stupid? Was she letting her need to escape Jeff override common sense?

She walked down the stairs slowly pausing at the front door and peeking outside. Rich was waiting out front—his punctuality might be the trait Annie found most endearing—dressed in a black suit with a sensible tie. Taking a deep breath Annie pushed open the door and strode out. This was Rich; she'd spent the night in the worst parts of Denver with Rich. And if anything went wrong, she had the police on speed dial. She had nothing to worry about.

“Hello,” she said shyly.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he told her. Getting in gracefully Annie ignored the sudden anxiety as a gust of wind tried to pull her skirt out of her hands. No one would attack a girl on a date with a doctor driving a Camry she repeated to herself. “Are you excited for Maggiano’s?”

“I’ve never been there,” Annie replied. Her stomach was tying itself in knots as Rich started the car and pulled out into traffic. Maggiano’s was in a good part of town—miles away from Greendale.

“Never been there!” Rich cried with mock outrage. “Well then I'm glad to be the one taking you.”

He stopped the small talk, looking over at her ashen face and then turned off the radio. “What's wrong? You aren’t nervous, are you?”

Annie forced herself to look at him. She didn't, no, she wouldn't let Jeff ruin this. “I’m just—this business with the Colorado Strangler has me on edge.” There. It was done. She had admitted it out loud.

“Annie,” Rich reassured her, reaching across the car and taking her hand in his. “I am always watching out for you.”

Looking up, Annie scanned his expression as he watched the road. He wasn’t smiling this time; his face had that same quiet intensity she’d seen in the cafeteria. He didn’t look like a 1950’s parody when he looked at her that way; he looked like a handsome man who thought she was beautiful, and she finally felt her nerves settle, allowed to fully relax for the first time since that awful letter had come.

“I believe you,” she told him with a small smile. His warm, dry fingers squeezed her own and didn’t let go until they reached the restaurant.

When Annie got home that night she was stuffed, a little tipsy, and blissfully happy. Rich had ordered for them—a three-course meal complete with dessert. She was pretty sure she drank more than two bottles of wine by herself, but it didn’t make her maudlin or self-conscious with Rich. With each new glass he taught her how to really experience the wine. With each drink she felt more sophisticated and grown up.

He regaled her with stories of his recovery work in the rain forest and building houses after Katrina. Rich had done so much and helped so many people—spending time with him reminded Annie of the dreams she’d nursed before the Adderall had derailed her life. She found herself admitting to Rich that she wanted to study abroad, join the Peace Corps, build schools, and serve as a volunteer teacher. Annie had dreams, dreams she had forgotten about under the crush of schoolwork and a study group that got crazier by the year. But when she was with Rich, she saw something new and exciting for her life; when she was with Rich, she saw possibility.

Her fingers came up and traced her lips as she walked through the apartment door. He had kissed her good night, a gentle, chaste kiss so different from Jeff’s. She didn’t feel the same rush that took her breath away when Jeff touched her, but she liked the difference. Rich was slow and easy, demanding nothing in return.

“Have a good time?” a cold voice spoke from the darkness.

Jumping clear out of her skin Annie spun around, arms up and poised to strike.

“Jeff!” she spotted him, “you can’t scare me like that!”

“At least you’re scared,” he said under his breath, walking forward.

“What are you still doing here?” Annie sighed.

“What are you doing home so late?” Jeff countered.

“Jeff—” Annie began with warning but stopped when her phone beeped from her purse. With a smile she pulled it out eagerly; was Rich texting her already to say he had a good time? 

No. Her mouth opened in a soundless “O” as the phone dropped from her nerveless grip, clattering on the floor. She just stood there and stared at it laying so innocuously on the ground. Was she shaking? She couldn't tell, couldn't seem to find her balance. She felt her knees give out, and she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t control her descent.

“Annie!” Jeff cried, racing to her side and wrapping his arms around her before she fell. He took her weight as her legs buckled and carried her to the couch, making sure she was stable before running back to the phone and picking it up.

“Son of a bitch,” Jeff growled. He raised the phone as if to throw it, but stopped himself, his arm falling uselessly back to his side. She didn't blame him; if it would help, she'd let him break the phone with his bare hands.

_You looked pretty tonight. Are you whoring yourself out to the doctor now?_

The phone beeped again as Jeff stared at the screen. She watched as he read the message, his lips thinning out at what he saw.

The phone beeped one more time. He pushed the power button down and threw the phone on the table. Annie could guess what it said.

“What did the others say?” she asked in a harsh whisper.

“Annie it doesn't mat—”

“What did the others say?!”

Jeff reared back, lashed by the shrillness of her voice but relented. “It said—it said you shouldn't be going on dates. And that—and that nobody got to...nobody got to kiss you but him.”

“Oh god,” Annie said curling into a ball. She knew it. She knew it and she went out with Rich anyway and now he was in danger. What if she got Rich killed? What if the killer went after Rich because she went on a date with him? “Oh god, oh god, oh god...”

She didn't fight Jeff as he sat down on the couch next to her, pulling her into his chest and holding her close; he rubbed her hair, her back, her arms, but nothing helped. She just...she just felt so fucking _useless_.

“We'll find him Annie,” Jeff told her. “We'll catch this bastard.” 

Annie didn't waste breath arguing with him. She never should have gone on a date tonight. What was she thinking? How could she be so stupid? She was so angry at herself, terrified and furious at her own naivete. She didn’t want to hear Jeff say, “I told you so.” She didn’t want any of this to be real.

_Your next_ flashed in her brain over and over and over again.

She buried her face in his shirt and stopped fighting the tears.

*******

Jeff woke on the couch with a start. “Annie!” he called. She'd been here, safe, and he'd passed out sometime after infomercials started with her wrapped in his arms. How had he not woken up when she pulled away? Jerking himself upright he stumbled around the apartment. “Annie? Annie!”

“Here Jeff,” she said quietly, coming out of the bathroom. “I just went to the bathroom.”

“You scared me.” It came out more judgmental than he meant it to, but he couldn't think straight—he felt like he was bound in knots. He wanted her to understand that he was going to fix this, that he could fix this.

“There's a lot of that going around,” she said darkly.

“Not funny.” He saw the phone clutched in her hand and felt his lips press together.

“What is anymore?” she shrugged, following his eyes to her half-hidden phone. “I—I needed to know what he was saying.”

“Why?” Jeff asked quietly. “Why do that to yourself?”

“It's,” she stopped, running free hand through her loose hair. “It's something I can control? I don't even know.”

“What do they say?”

“Just more of the usual.” She tried to brush past him to her bedroom, but he stopped her with a hand above her elbow. He couldn't stop the wince as the migraine started.

“Tell me what they said,” he ordered her.

“Why do _you_ need to know?” she asked, exhausted. “You're not my boyfriend Jeff and you're not my father. This isn't your problem.”

“Don't Annie,” he interrupted her, letting go of her arm and scrubbing his hands through his hair. Fucking migraines, he could feel the tension building right behind his eyes. Not a single headache before he started at Greendale—now he seemed riddled with them. “Just don't. You know—you know how I feel about you.”

“Yeah,” Annie rolled her eyes, “because our relationship has always been so clearly defined. Jeff, I don't—can we not talk about this right now?”

“Who's talking about it?” he growled at her. What was wrong with her? It was like he was always saying the wrong thing. When had they stopped being on the same side? “And since when were we fighting?” Pain shot across his skull and he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out.

“Since when were we fighting?” Her tone belied her words, showing her irritation. Putting one hand against his head he tried to calm himself down, breathe through the pain. They were all on edge. The police had finally released the name of the third victim, and it wasn't Slater. Annie was safe. He could protect them; he could get them all through this if she would just stop fighting him. She would stay safe if she would just do what he said.

“I need you to be a little more grown up about all of this Annie,” Jeff finally snapped. He regretted it as soon as he heard his own words.

She didn't scream at him or throw anything at him. She just stood there stiffly and stared for a very long time. He was braced for the temper tantrum, not for the quiet dismissal she gave him.

“I think it would be best if someone else stayed with me for a while,” she said. “You clearly need some time alone to...to rest. Or whatever.” Spinning on her heel she marched into her bedroom and shut the door, the quiet sound ringing through his head as he stumbled to the table and groped in his coat pocket for the pills he stashed there.

“Fuck,” he hissed. He trusted the group. He trusted them all with his life; he just wasn't sure he could trust anyone else with Annie's. Could Shirley intimidate the bastard? Could Pierce fight him off? What if Britta got taken too or murdered outright?

Slater was—no, he couldn’t think about that. He hadn’t thought about Slater consistently since the dance; she'd been pretty firmly forgotten but now she was always there on the periphery of his mind. He needed to know she was okay. He needed to know Annie was safe. He needed the cops to hurry up and find this bastard. He sat back down on the futon trying to make himself comfortable, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd talk to Britta at school today and they could figure this out. She was on the same page; Pierce kept offering to hire bodyguards and Shirley brought casseroles over, but Britta understood this wasn't something they could wait out. They needed to be offensive and find this asshole before he found Annie. They needed to stop him before he killed the mysterious fourth victim. 

He let his eyes drift shut as the meds finally kicked in, his brow furrowed even as he fell asleep. He hadn't loved Michelle for a very long time. But that didn't mean he wanted her to be dead.

Jeff woke again as the sun managed to land directly on his face. Abed was eating cereal watching cartoons turned down low, sitting in one of the chairs in front of the TV; Troy and Annie were nowhere to be seen. 

“Troy’s still sleeping. and Annie left with Britta about an hour ago,” Abed told him.

“I didn’t ask,” Jeff said snappishly.

“You didn’t have to,” Abed replied unfazed. “Your unacknowledged role as the father of our group places undue responsibility on you as our protector and leader. You’ve accepted that responsibility but it’s clearly taking its toll.”

“Are you saying I look like shit?” Jeff asked drolly.

“Something like that,” Abed agreed, turning back to his cartoons.

“Thanks Abed,” Jeff said with a dry laugh as he pushed himself off the couch. He took a minute and stretched, letting all his joints realign themselves with a series of pops and cracks. He was getting too old to sleep on couches.

Making his way to the bathroom Jeff took care of his immediate needs then checked his phone and texted Britta as he pulled his coat on. _Can we talk?_

“I’m gonna go home and take a shower Abed,” Jeff waved goodbye.

“Cool,” he replied, not looking away from the TV.

_I’m with Annie. Shirley takes over in an hour._ Britta texted back after a moment.

_Meet in the library,_ Jeff texted. He scratched at his stubble irritated by the itch. Dammit he needed to shave.

Jeff got the shower, but he didn’t make it to meet Britta. Or the class after that. Partly because all the classes at Greendale had been canceled indefinitely, but mostly because nothing mattered once he saw the emergency vehicles swarming Greendale's student parking lot. Less than a half hour ago, a sixteen-year-old high school girl on her way to her dual enrollment found a body next to the dumpster behind the Waste Management building.

There were masses of people huddled up, the lights of police cars and ambulances flashed haphazardly on everything they touched, and the tell-tale black SUV’s of the FBI, making a horseshoe that did little to repel prying eyes.

He approached slowly, knowing what he was going to find, but refusing to believe it. It could be anything he told himself. It could be another nameless victim he didn’t know and had never heard of. That would be awful, but it would be better than...something else. He couldn't wish someone dead, it was unthinkable, but as Jeff approached the crime scene he wished for it fervently—he wished in that moment that it was anybody but Michelle. She couldn't be found dumped at Greendale like so much garbage.

But she was. Her body was covered by a cheap white sheet as cameras snapped photos and people in suits wondered around looking important. A white sheet was draped but not weighted down and when a breeze came through it pulled the edge of the sheet up bringing the smell of rotting food and something else—something sweeter and more awful—with it. Jeff saw her then—her eyes were still open and her skin blotchy with bruises and abrasions. It didn't even look like her except it did. She was naked; her sightless eyes found him in the crowd.

He didn't see his friends; they appeared from somewhere and were suddenly next to him, but he was still stuck, focused on that coarse, white sheet. No one tried to touch him or comfort him and, when he finally pulled his eyes away, he was grateful for that. He'd seen death before, not a lot, but he'd gone to funerals and received phone calls in the middle of the night telling him someone he didn't love—but knew he should—was dead. Usually, he knew it was coming. One time he didn't. 

This was nothing like any of those.

Jeff just stood there. He wondered from somewhere far away from himself if he should be feeling something. He knew he _should_ be feeling something. He was sad. He knew he was sad, but he couldn't feel it. It wasn't like he didn't know this was a possibility. He knew Slater had been missing for weeks; he had heard someone say she'd never actually left on her vacation. But he'd stoutly ignored it all. He had simply refused to believe. Some strange, detached, Abed part of himself supposed it was good he wasn't feeling, but the rest of him was offended that he didn't feel _anything_. There was no rage, no sorrow, no heartbreak—just a strange emptiness that made no sense. 

But suddenly, between one step and the next, the feelings were there on the edge of his consciousness; he could feel them rushing at him through some invisible wall in his brain and he knew needed to get home. He had to be alone before it all broke free. Annie—how could he forget about Annie even for a second? Annie was with Britta. He would text Britta once he was in his car and driving away from here, away from all these people and their stupid gossip and camera phones. Two girls giggled somewhere and suddenly he was immersed in the rage, and something else, an emotion he couldn't even name. He needed to get clear of it all.

“Jeff! Jeff!!” someone screamed from behind him. He took three more steps. “Jeff, wait!”

He stopped letting whoever it was catch up. He couldn't just run to his car and peel out of the parking lot—well he could, but he stopped that line of reasoning before he gave into it.

“Jeff,” Britta said again, gasping for breath as she caught up to him. “Jeff—" she stopped when she saw his face. He had no idea what she saw there, but he could take a guess.

He said nothing.

“Annie took off with Rich,” Britta told him.

“What?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

“She was with Shirley and I went to the bathroom,” Britta said shaking her head. “By the time I came out they'd seen the body, and Shirley let Rich take her. I guess he said he was taking her home and he'd stay with her until one of us got there.”

From somewhere far away Jeff wondered idly if this qualified as a “killing rage.” 

Turning from Britta without a word, he got in the Lexus. Britta managed to jump in the passenger side as he shifted into reverse and swung out of his space. She pulled her door shut as he flipped it to drive and peeled out, tires squealing.

Britta didn't bother asking him to slow down or yell at him for nearly killing her. She just fastened her seat belt and gripped her door as he tore around corners and changed lanes violently, weaving through traffic and accelerating through yellow lights. They pulled up to the apartment in record time and Jeff didn't even bother to U-turn and park on the right side of the street. Pulling the car mostly to the side he jumped out, locking it as he ran up the stairs three at a time.

He pounded on the door. No response. He pounded again. Still no response. Lifting his foot, he kicked once, twice, three times and the door caved in on itself, tearing from the hinges and hanging by the deadbolt. 

“Annie!” he hollered, making a circuit of the apartment. Coming back to the door he met Britta, standing, frozen in the ravaged doorway. “No one's here.”

***

They were almost alone. Only the stupid Jesus freak stood between him and complete isolation. He had watched her as she heard the news about the Professor. He had felt himself harden uncomfortably in his pants as the blood drained from her face and those big blue eyes went dewy with shock. Is that how she would look when she woke up in his basement? Would her mouth open in that little “O” when he entered her for the first time? It was almost time—soon he would have her. Every day she pulled further and further away from that ridiculous little study group. Every day she pulled closer and closer to him.

Soon he would have her. And then it would be too late.

***

Annie walked up the stairs arm-in-arm with Rich forcing a smile at his lighthearted joke about Snow White and dishes. Her smile froze when she saw the shattered door to her apartment and she stopped, one foot on the top step, her fingers digging into Rich's arm through his coat.

“Annie?!” Jeff called, running out the door. Britta was right behind him, both looking terrified and relieved. Annie's eyes bounced between her friends and her door, unsure what it meant, why they were there.

She tried to speak, but nothing came out.

“What happened here?” Rich said too calmly.

“WHERE DID YOU GO?!” Jeff roared. Rich tucked her behind him neatly as Jeff ran at them, placing himself between she and Jeff, acting as a shield.

“Hey now,” Rich said placating. “There's no need for raised voices—"

“I'm not talking to you!” Jeff growled in Rich's face. “Annie where did you go? Why did you leave campus with him?”

She'd never seen Jeff like this—not even when he took an ax to the study table. She wasn't scared of him, she could never be scared of Jeff, but she stayed behind Rich even as Jeff kept trying to push him out of the way, kept trying to get to her.

“Rich took me out,” she responded slowly and quietly. “He—I wanted to take my mind off of what I'd seen.”

“Did it work?” Jeff snarled. “Did you have a good laugh and forget that Slater is dead? That you're next?”

“Jeff,” Britta warned from behind him. 

“No, he's right.” Annie raised her chin and finally stepped out from behind Rich. “You're always right aren't you Jeff? You're the one that knows best, the only one that really 'understands the gravity of this situation.' How dare I try to forget for even one _freaking_ moment—as if I could—while spending time with my friend who knows karate, that there's a monster out there stalking me! A monster that wants to kidnap, rape, and torture me before finally killing me and dumping my body in Greendale for all to see! You're right. That's so irresponsible of me. It's a good thing I have you here to protect and watch out for me.”

“How could you live above Dildopolis and be this stupid?” Jeff screamed at the ceiling. “Do you honestly think Dr. Do-No-Wrong can protect you?”

“I'm perfectly capable—” Rich tried to interject.

“ _Rich_ is the only friend I have right now that's more interested in protecting me than smothering me!” Annie screamed over the top of him.

“That's because you're a fucking child who doesn't have enough sense to stay at home when she's being stalked!”

Annie reared back as if struck.

“Go to Hell,” she whispered with vehemence. She stalked past him and jerking her arm from his grasp when Jeff grabbed her. Annie spun and looked up at him, her face inches from his. “Don't. Touch. Me.” 

She held his gaze refusing to back down, their rage and fear equally matched in this moment. Britta and Rich stood in their respective corners, quiet observers as the showdown played out in front of them. Jeff broke first, stomping down the steps away from the apartment. And away from her.

“Come on Britta,” he said. “Annie clearly has it all under control, and I'm sure Rich is happy making sure she doesn't get kidnapped, raped, and murdered.”

Britta stood in the doorway, her gaze bouncing between Jeff's sneer and Annie's anger. Taking pity on her friend Annie turned and touched her hand.

“Go,” she whispered to Britta. “I'll be okay.”

“Annie,” Britta said, her voice catching on a sob. “I don't trust Rich.”

“I know,” Annie said, glancing between Rich and her best friend, “but I do.”

Britta enveloped her in a hug and Annie gave herself a moment to relish the unconditional support. This wasn't just a fight and they all knew it. She and Jeff—they weren't going to be okay anytime soon. Maybe not ever. It was a long time coming, but knowing that didn't make Annie feel any better. 

“I'll be okay,” she whispered into Britta's ear. “I love you. I'll be okay.” 

Their eyes were both wet when they pulled away and, for one second, she was wracked with unease. She was on a precipice and she realized she wasn't ready to jump, she wasn't ready to lose Jeff. But then Rich was there, taking her hand and pulling her gently away from Britta and it was done. It was over. She and Jeff, whatever they had been, was over.

“I'm sorry you had to see that,” she said to Rich, wiping her eyes after they'd gone. “This—this has been really hard on everyone.”

“I'm touched that you trust me so deeply Annie,” Rich said, carefully cupping her face in his hand. “I want you to know that I'm here for you.”

Annie forced a smile at his words, but her heart wasn't in it. With each moment that passed she was second guessing her decision. How could she have chosen Rich over Jeff and Britta? What about Troy, Abed, Shirley, and Pierce? What was this going to do to the group? Rich leaned in, cutting her thoughts off with a gentle kiss, but she pulled back against his grip. It was too soon; she couldn't bear the feel of his lips against hers.

“Rich,” she said unable to break his hold easily. “Rich I'm sorry. I—I can't.”

He didn't let go at her words; instead, his fingers curled against her scalp, forcing her head back as she gasped.

“Rich!” she cried. “You're hurting me!”

He didn't seem to care; his eyes had gone—feral. It was the only word in Annie's mind, and she struggled in his grasp as he forced his mouth onto hers, smashing their lips together. He pulled her away like a puppet, whipping her about by her hair to keep her off balance and Annie reached up, intent on breaking his hold, but suddenly he was using her momentum against her. He slammed her head into the hard plaster of the hallway once, twice, leaving a hole with her face and holding her like a ragdoll in his grip.

“It didn't have to be this way,” he said in a cold, alien voice. Fighting the pain rolling across her vision Annie swung out with her hands, her feet, desperate to break free. He backhanded her with his free hand and Annie felt her lip split against her teeth as she saw stars, barely conscious.

“I wanted to love you Annie,” he said, and she felt the terror sink in through the pain. “I wanted to love you, but you were a whore like all the others.”

He hit her again and blackness blanketed her.

***

_Week 1, Day 1, 4:16 pm_

Jeff is still fuming when Britta calls Annie an hour later. It goes to voicemail and he half-listens as Britta asks Annie to call her back. She just wants to know that Annie is safe. 

_5:30 pm_

Britta calls again. Still no answer and she leaves another message, making sure to tell Annie she isn't “mothering” just “worried” and would Annie please call back as soon as she got this?

Jeff doesn't say anything, but he started feeling sick after he left Annie with Rich. A half-hour after Britta’s second call he texts Annie _Can you just let me know you're okay?_ Visions of everything—Slater's body, the cops, the white sheet, the gawkers—seem branded in his brain except it's not always Slater's face. Sometimes it's Annie's.

Annie doesn't text him back or return Britta's calls.

_7:03 pm_

Britta and Jeff each start calling respective members of the study group to check-in. When none of them have heard anything, they track down the volunteer group—all Britta could remember was the name rhymed and it turns out rhyming names were fairly popular in the Denver area, so they call five groups before finding the right one. Jeff weasels Rich's number out of the prissy receptionist and calls him, but Rich doesn't pick up either. 

_7:46 pm_

Jeff calls the cops. He tells them about the fight. He tells them she was last seen with Rich. He tells them his theories on Rich. They take her disappearance seriously and order him to let them know anything else immediately then promise to check Rich out. Jeff isn't satisfied. He and Britta get back in his Lexus and head over to Rich's apartment.

_8:11 pm_

After knocking on the door until their hands hurt Jeff is ready to kick it in—again, but Britta stops him with a hand on his arm.

Britta Googles how to pick a lock. Jeff is impatient but waits. He begins contemplating how he will prove Rich's guilt. And how he will kill him with his bare hands—not necessarily in that order.

_8:17 pm_

Britta successfully picks the lock. Pushing it inward silently, they both peek inside the apartment, listening for any noise. In the dark it all looks the same as it did the last time Jeff was here; strange masks, pottery, and knick-knacks line the shelves, coffee table, and walls. Everything is placed to create a perfect symmetry that makes Jeff grind his teeth and he rushes through the living room to the hallway, opening doors carefully as he goes. In less than a minute he and Britta have checked every room, every closet, and knocked on every wall in search of a hollow spot. 

_8:19 pm_

He calls Rich again as they walk out, leaving the door closed but unlocked behind them, and he hears Britta leaving Annie yet another voice message. 

“Where would he have taken her?” Jeff growls, hitting “end” on his phone.

“The cops are investigating him, right?” Britta asks. “If he has any other properties, they should find them. We've got him Jeff.”

“Not fast enough,” Jeff replies.

_9:00 pm_

The FBI picks Jeff Winger up for questioning.

***

_Week 1, Day 2, 10:35 am_

“Listen you sonsofbitches you've got the WRONG guy!” Jeff screams. His voice is hoarse and cracked and he knows he's not helping his case, he _knows—_ he was a lawyer even if he was a fake one—but he can't seem to stop. Annie is out there, alone, and he promised to keep her safe. He promised to fix this. Every time he stops screaming, he sees Michelle's face behind his eyelids.

“It's Rich,” he tries again. “She's with Rich. You need to find Rich.”

“We’re already looking for Rich, Mr. Winger.” 

Jeff jerks away from the two-way mirror to see a petite woman, finally, entering the interrogation room. 

“Did you find him?” He can barely hold himself back from charging her, shaking her for information. “Did you find Annie? Did you?!”

“Please calm down Mr. Winger.” She doesn't even bother to look at him, taking her seat at the table like it's just another day.

Jeff forces himself to breathe; he forces himself to just play the fucking game. Maybe they think he knows something; maybe they think he's involved. Whatever it is it doesn't matter; so long as he's in here they're not out there. So, he just needs to calm down already. He gets that.

It takes every ounce of self-control he has to walk across the table and take the seat across from his new arch-nemesis, the five-foot, three-inch Latina woman who stands between him and Annie. As he sits, she finally looks up from her folders and pins him with her stare—he can't stop himself from leaning away.

“So, you knew Maureen Clemmons,” she begins.

“What? Who the hell is Maureen Cle—oh.”

“Yes,” she says with an enigmatic smile. “Oh.”

“Are you asking me if I knew the first victim?”

“Oh, I already know you knew the first victim. I'm asking you for details.”

“We went on a date,” he says tightly. “Once.”

“More than once,” the officer corrects him. “Maureen's friends have explained you two had quite the fling.”

“What?” He can barely remember Maureen, and he's too worried over Annie to feel bad about it. He'd gone on one date with her, slept with her a few times, then dodged her phone calls.

“Maureen's phone records show she called you a number of times.”

“It was my first year at Greendale,” Jeff bites off. “I barely remember her.”

“I'm sure that will make her friends and family feel better,” the agent tells him with a cold smile. “What about Rachel McIntyre?”

Jeff crossed his arms, the pattern clicking into place.

“You knew Rachel McIntyre did you not Mr. Winger?”

“I did.”

“How.”

“I represented her in her divorce.”

“That's quite a coincidence.” Jeff moved his gaze to the corner, refusing to look at her. “And then there's Colleen Smith a paralegal at your old firm and, of course, Michelle Slater. You're ex-girlfriend.”

Jeff said nothing. Rich had set him up. That son of a bitch had set him up from the beginning.

“And now Annie Edison.”

“I was the one that told Annie to call you!” he burst. He'd meant to stay silent, to ask for a lawyer but the first 24 hours were crucial—even a washed-up con man like himself knew that. He couldn't slow things down. “She's out there right now!”

“And we're interrogating our top suspect.” The agent never raised her voice; she did nothing more but snap the folder shut but Jeff felt the temperature in the room drop ten degrees. Her withering gaze pinned him, but he was too angry, too worried about Annie to play it safe.

“You've got nothing on me,” he hissed, leaning across the table. “Either charge me or let me go but fucking. find. _Annie_.”

The agent reacted to that, her eyes still suspicious, but a new tilt to her chin as she pursed her lips. Jeff was vibrating in front of her, desperate to be out there, he needed to look for Annie himself. He'd promised her. He'd _promised_ her that he would keep her safe, and now she was gone, missing—how had this happened? Annie was a black belt; she was brilliant! His knee shook under the table and his fingers dug into his thighs, his thoughts racing through possibilities.

The opening door shattered the silence in the interrogation room and a uniformed officer poked his head in. “The Captain's asking for you.”

She stood unhurriedly, taking the folder with her. “Mr. Winger, if you'll excuse me.”

She was pushing him; he could see it in the way she watched the lines of his body, his clenched fists, but Jeff held it together as she practically sauntered out the door—her gait slow and lazy. Rationally he knew it was a tactic, knew they were trying to break him with their apparent disinterest, but he couldn't be rational right now. It took everything he had not to launch himself at this unflappable agent and her carefully tailored suit. The door slid shut with a soft click.

***

Annie woke slowly, the throbbing in her head making her eyes squeeze tight before she even tried to open them. She reached for the hair hanging her face, but her arms wouldn't move; her hands tingled painfully, and she thought maybe she was dreaming. Awareness crept in on her slowly, achingly as she realized she wasn't laying down at all—she was stretched upright against cold cement, her body weight on her wrists and the tips of her toes. Everything pulled, her muscles thudding in time with her heartbeat, and then adrenaline flooded her body between one blink and the next.

Rich. The fight outside her apartment. Jeff and Britta leaving. _Rich_.

She wanted to throw up. Except no, that wasn't quite right either. She wanted to cry maybe—it seemed like that's what she should do. Wasn't that what happened in movies? Victims cried and screamed and threw up? She was—she didn't even know what she was. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know how long she'd been here. She didn't know if anyone was looking for her yet. Annie choked a little, her breath catching in the back of her throat and it felt like her tongue was swelling in her mouth, making it impossible to breathe. She panted, stretched, tugged at the chains holding her, gasping at the pain in her wrists as she moved. Still, she pulled harder, her vision going spotty. What was she doing? Did she think she could pull the chains out of the wall? But maybe she could force her hands out of the manacles. Foxes chewed their legs off when they were caught in a trap right? She could take the pain of lost skin.

There was a lot of pain— _a lot_ of pain—but Annie kept pulling. She could get free. She would get free. She felt like maybe the metal was sliding, moving up her hands, stuck on the joint of her thumb, but if she could just get over that, pull her fingers in a little more...

A door slammed open somewhere above her and Annie froze, her brain fuzzed out and she couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't anything. Maybe he thought she was still passed out; the footsteps moved across the floor above and she breathed silently through her mouth, trying to hear through the blood pounding in her head. The steps were even and measured—she thought maybe it wasn't Rich at all. Or maybe Rich was working for someone—his family could be caught. What if Rich had been blackmailed and was somewhere, worried for Annie's safety? Would it be better if it wasn't Rich?

The basement door opened slowly, the quiet creak in the hinges made her want to whimper.

Footstep started slowly down the stairs and she let her body go limp. Annie played dead, her only thought was to make herself so cold, so unconscious that he was bored with her. The steps came closer—surely, he could see her by now. He was behind her and somewhere to her left. Whatever shoes he was wearing were soft-soled, maybe...was he wearing _slippers?_ The scratch-shuffle as he moved across the concrete floor towards her sounded so benign, so casual she jerked, infuriated.

“I know you're awake Annie.”

It was a whisper across her face, his breath sliding across her skin, but Annie lay still, motionless. She saw a different Rich behind her eyelids, something twisted and monstrous like the creatures in Troy and Abed's cartoons. Maybe that's what had happened—the Rich she knew was gone or taken over by a blorgon and this Rich was an imposter. A terrifying creature couldn't exist in this world. If she opened her eyes he would be mangled and seeping, veins bulging in his misshapen face. He might even have fangs and claws. He sighed and she felt his agitation palpably; she liked that he was irritated.

“There's no point in pretending Annie.” His voice was still soft, and she couldn’t stop the spasm as he traced one gentle finger down her face, but Annie kept her eyes screwed shut.

“Annie,” he whispered in her ear, his body pushing up against hers, “Annie look at me. I want to see your big, beautiful, blue eyes.”

He was touching her now, his hands roaming across her prone form, but Annie blocked him out, focused on keeping her eyes shut; she wanted to panic, to stare him down and scream, but that's what he wanted. He wanted her to react. So instead, Annie fought him the only way she could.

“Will you open your eyes if I hurt you Annie?” he asked her, his voice getting tighter as his fingers dug into her hips. “I don't want to hurt you. I want to talk to you. I want to see you. I want to know you're here with me Annie, I care about you.”

When the tears leaked out, Annie squeezed her eyes tighter; he reached up, pinning her lower body to the wall with his own and caressed her cheek, cupping her face tenderly. Annie bit her tongue to keep from screaming.

“I can make you open your eyes Annie,” he said into her ear. “Do you want me to make you? Annie?”

Annie Edison had never known what it was to hate her own name.

“Maybe I won't hurt you this time,” he said, his grip still caressing, she could feel him growing against her, felt it in the undulation of his hips against hers.

_thiswasn'thappeningthiswasn'thappeningthiswasn'thappeningthiswasn'thappening..._

“You're making me do this Annie,” he told her, reaching between them and sliding his hands up under her shirt. “I didn't want this for you. For us. I thought you were different but then I saw you with _him_. Throwing yourself at him. Acting like a _whore_.”

Annie choked on her own scream when he suddenly grabbed both her nipples and twisted. He'd moved slowly, gently, then reached into her bra suddenly—it felt like he was trying to rip the skin off her chest.

“ _Look at me Annie._ ” He twisted again and she whimpered into her lips, pressing them tighter as more tears leaked out. His hands dropped, ripping her bra in half as he left her breasts; he tore her jeans open, the button flying across the room—time froze as the cheap metal bounced across the concrete floor. Annie clenched her thighs together, imagining a vice between her legs, a mermaid tale, something solid and indivisible. But her muscles were too tired, and he had her pants pulled off her ass in two tugs—switching gears Annie started bucking, kicking out, trying to connect her heels with his knee, her knees with his groin, anything. But it was like moving in quicksand; her body wouldn't respond, the adrenaline kicked up her heart, but the fatigue left her weak. Still, she kept her eyes shut, still she refused to say anything even though she was snarling behind her lips, growling with the exertion of fighting him.

He punched her then, his fist snapping her head into the concrete behind her and she hung limp for a second, her body bouncing against the wall behind it like a dead branch that just wouldn’t fall. In the second it took for her to come around he had her jeans off, dangling from one forgotten ankle—she wondered why that felt so insulting. She twisted against him, trying to get away, but he was already against her, between her legs and she couldn't get any purchase to fight him; she placed one foot on the wall behind her and shoved herself forward, and he stumbled, caught off-guard, but his fingers dug into her ass, steadying himself with her body.

“You won't look at me,” he snarled, spittle landing on her face. “You think you're better than me, think you can ignore me is that it?” His fingers stabbed between her legs, forcing her open as he moved flush against her and Annie bucked, all instinct now.

“This is your fault,” he hissed. “You're a whore for Jeff Winger but you're too good for me. I'll teach you. You can't ignore me Annie. You're _mine_.”

His fingers were jabbing her, a nail cutting her, and Annie tried to go away, tried to relax, tried to do anything except be caught, forced to live through this moment. The sound of his zipper wasn't nearly as horrible as the first brush of him against her. Her brain shut down, her language functions stuck on _nonobadno_ repeating and repeating and repeating. This was Rich. This was a man she admired and liked. This couldn't be. He couldn't be. And then he shoved inside.

For one blissful second everything whited out—it was like Annie just wasn't there. She knew what was happening, of course, she could feel him, but she just wasn't there. Then he licked her.

At the first wet swath from neck to ear Annie forgot to stay silent and screamed. She kept screaming as he started moving, his hands digging into her ass and lifting her off the floor so he could drive her with all his strength. Her world narrowed to the sound of his skin slapping against hers, the dull rattle of chains as her arms swung above her like spaghetti and the way he screamed at her between grunts. A hand came up to her face, clawed fingers digging into her eye as he tried to pry her eyelids apart, threats, scratches, and punches growing more frantic when he couldn't force her eyes open.

He bit her when he came, his teeth tearing flesh off her shoulder, but all Annie could feel was the mess inside.

When he finally left her with whispered promises of his return, she was freezing and shaking in the chill air; she thought birth control was a stupidly practical thought to focus on. He'd probably kill her before it became a problem anyway. She wondered why that was comforting.

***

_Week 1, Day 3, 4:00 am_

Jeff sat silently in the passenger’s seat as Britta drove him away from the police station. His leg kept shaking against the car door and Britta stole furtive glances at him, clutching the steering wheel like a buoy.

“I don’t think they suspect you anymore,” Britta finally said.

“Awesome.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!!!”

Britta jerked as if he slapped her, and Jeff felt the sting of guilt, but he couldn't seem to control himself. Everyone wanted him to fix it. Everyone _expected_ him to fix it, but he had no fucking clue what to do. None. They broke into Rich's apartment and found nothing. The police already checked all known secondary residences on Jeff and Britta's testimony that Annie was last seen with him, but obviously they hadn't found her. Jeff was out of fucking ideas. He didn't know anyone that could run a better background check than the fucking FBI and without more information...

“Abed.”

“What?” Britta asked him.

“Abed. We need Abed.”

Without another word Britta stepped on it, racing through the streets back to the apartment. As they approached Jeff saw the door was already rehung, the shiny new hinges glaringly out of place against the cracked wood and stained plaster in the hallway. There was a new hole in the wall, a hole Jeff knew he didn’t put there. He stopped, staring at that hole, as Britta opened the door. He could hear voices and knew they were all already there—Shirley, Troy, Pierce, and Abed—no one knew what to do, but none of them wanted to be alone. Jeff’s speech of almost a year ago, a speech where he convinced Shirley they knew next to nothing about Rich echoed in his stupid, useless brain.

Shirley’s sniffles and her hand on his arm pulled his attention back to the present. “Come on Jeffrey,” she said and for reasons he couldn’t process he followed her.

“It was Rich,” Jeff told them. “It was Rich. He took Annie.”

“How do we know Rich isn't lying dead in a ditch somewhere?” Troy asked.

“We can hope he is,” Jeff replied.

“Come on Jeff,” Pierce said, putting his phone down. “It's more likely Rich got dealt with than it is he's the Colorado Strangler.”

“Dealt with, Pierce?” Jeff mocked him. “Really?”

“Don't start yelling at me,” Pierce warned him. “We're all on the same side here.”

“Easy,” Britta told them both, moving to stand in-between the two men towering over her. “We need to find Annie and we need to find her soon. We can't do that if we're fighting.”

“We need a police scanner,” Abed interjected. “Troy and I can get that. Shirley—we need food. None of us have eaten since yesterday. Pierce start calling everyone money can buy. We can plaster the city with fliers of Annie and offer a reward for information. Britta and Jeff, you're on research. I know you've already started talking to Professor Slater's neighbors Britta. Where was she taken? Were there any cameras? Was anyone visiting her regularly before she disappeared? Divide and conquer people. We'll get our Annie back.”

Everyone murmured their agreement and dispersed to complete their individual assignments. All except Jeff who froze outside the door staring at the hole in the wall, a hole at just the right height for Annie's head.

***

Annie woke up slowly. She was cold; everything hurt. When she tried to open her eyes the pain in her head intensified, drowning out the rest. She felt every heartbeat thud in her brain. She couldn't remember anything at first and she focused on breathing—just breathing until the fog started to clear and the dark shapes around her moved into focus. 

It all came back in a moment and panic followed hot on its heels. Slater's body. Yelling at Jeff. Rich kissing her. Rich...

Pushing her head out as far as she could Annie heaved and threw up, vomit splattering onto her legs and feet. As the smell of vomit overtook her, she choked and tried to take shallow breaths, not wanting to throw up again. She focused on the faces of the study group, starting with Pierce. She recreated his face in her mind, the moment when he told her she was his favorite. The silver hair and lightly lined face, lit up by a sweet smile. Pierce was really something when he was being sweet. She moved on from Pierce to Shirley. She pictured Shirley offering her a brownie. “That's nice,” she would say, enveloping Annie in one of her hugs. It always felt so good to hug Shirley, like there was nothing in the world that could hurt you.

“Are you awake?” a voice called from somewhere she couldn’t see, interrupting her focus. Annie tried to ignore it. She tried to draw Troy in her mind. His face when Abed discovered a new, truly awful movie—the unbridled joy as they all sat down to watch it.

“Hello little girl,” the voice said, closer now.

Rich had been the monster all along. Annie felt a twisted giggle building inside her but there was no humor in it. With a strength she didn't know she had, Annie stopped the giggle—a sound made up of fear and panic and pain—that threatened to overtake her. Rich moved into her line of sight and approached slowly; his once familiar face now something grotesque. 

“I see we had a little accident,” he said, stepping around the puddle of puke at her feet. “I'll clean that up in a minute, but we're going to have a little chat first.”

Annie picked a spot with her eyes and focused on it. He stepped directly in front of her, his eyes lit by a gleam that made her gag. Ignoring him she kept her gaze focused away, refusing to meet his gaze no matter how he positioned himself.

“Look at me!” he ordered her, grabbing her face with both hands. When he blocked the room, forcing his face to fill her vision she unfocused her eyes, staring through his head. Pulling back, he slapped her. Hard.

Still Annie refused to look.

“It's good,” he said, licking his lips. “It's good you're fighting me. I like it.”

Annie wanted to scream. She wanted to scream and kick and cry and throw up. She kept her expression placid and refused to react.

“I'll break you,” he promised. “I'll break you and you'll beg me to let you die by the end.”

When he reached out and ran his hand down her body, Annie welcomed the nausea and threw up again—this time all over him.

***

_Week 2, Day 5, 5:23 am_

It comes across the scanner the police have found Rich's car abandoned on Highway 36. He disappeared the same day as Annie. There was blood in the seat. The police, the FBI, Troy, and Pierce take it as a sign Rich had been murdered when Annie was taken. Jeff is convinced it was a ruse. Britta agrees with him. Shirley doesn't know what to think—she just wants Annie home and safe. Abed remains silent.

_8:45 am_

Pierce is passed out on the futon. Troy has nodded off in the chair. Shirley ran home to check on her family. Abed disappeared into the blanket fort over an hour ago. Jeff and Britta have run down every lead they could find on Slater, Rich, and the Colorado Strangler. Jeff has impersonated reporters, the cops, and Annie's brother at various points throughout the last week to get information. No one knows anything.

_Week 2, Day 6, 6:05 pm_

Jeff heads back to Slater's apartment to interview her neighbors again. No one reported seeing anyone that looked like Rich. No one reported noticing anything suspicious. Her car was still in her parking space. There was no sign of forced entry.

_8:12 pm_

Andre drops the kids off at his parents and comes over to the apartment to help however he can. The group has split in three. Troy and Pierce are sure Rich is a victim. Jeff and Britta are sure he is the Strangler. Shirley and Abed abstain. No one has slept much. Jeff stares at the clock, powerless, watching each second tick by and knowing they are closer and closer to finding Annie. Because she’ll be dead, and her body will be dumped at Greendale, and it will be too late.

***

Annie choked on water as Rich scoured her naked body with the high-pressure hose. It felt like her skin was being sanded away. Within seconds she was losing feeling in her toes, shaking so badly the chains clattered against the brick behind her. He put the hose away and approached slowly—her body rolled away from him as far as the chains allowed, but he didn't touch her. Instead, he reached above her head and opened a latch of some kind—her hair hung dripping in her face, and she watched him through slitted eyes from behind the strands—the chains lengthened, dropping her full weight to her feet and then pooling on the ground as her legs collapsed and she crumpled to the ground. Annie didn't bother to fight the tears as her body adjusted to the change in position; the concrete was cold and hard beneath her and she wondered, idly, if she could go to sleep. Maybe she’d get lucky and never wake up.

He didn't say anything, or maybe he did, but she didn't listen. She was too busy trying to breathe around the pain of stretched and cramped muscles and the contorting shivers. She heard him stomp up the stairs and the door slammed, then came the sound of locks being turned. Something kicked on in the corner and she scanned the room wildly until the first hint of warm air touched her—it was the heater. 

It wasn't until she realized she wasn't going to die that she realized how much she had been hoping she would.

The last of her fear had finally given way to nihilistic acceptance. She would suffer and then she would die. Annie wasn’t even sure why she bothered eating the food he gave her except she knew if he had to make her it would hurt. She had no idea how long she'd been down here. A day? A week? An hour? No, definitely more than an hour. Every time the door opened, every time she had to listen to his pathetic whistling as he stomped down the stairs, she hoped this would be the time he finally killed her. She supposed this was all her fault. She went on a date with Rich. She picked him over her friends. She trusted him. 

There was no one to blame but herself.

***

_Week 3, Day 3, 5:46 pm_

Abed comes into the apartment with a map of Denver and surrounding areas. They map the homes of each victim and the place they were found. No discernible pattern emerges. They chart Rich's apartment, but it's not particularly close to what appears to be random attacks. 

_9:33 pm_

Britta figures out this thing is bigger than anyone realized. The deaths begin just after Jeff’s visit to Rich’s apartment back in January. An intern at Jeff’s former law firm, a barista at the Starbucks in Jeff’s neighborhood, Shantai, the mother of the obnoxious teenagers pantsed by Pierce and Shirley, and Gwennifer, a one-time date following the search for the purple pen. One was killed in a hit and run; one was classified as a suicide; one was shot; one was raped and beaten to death. The cases were never connected. When Britta calls the FBI they take the information, thank her, and hang up.

_3:33 am_

Abed has an idea. Jeff and Britta break into Greendale, steal Rich's file, and discover the name of his mother and deceased brother. Returning back to the apartment Pierce uses dubious means to run the financial records on all three; nothing pops up. Jeff has an idea. Jeff has Pierce run a background check on Jeffrey Winger. A farmhouse is discovered listed as the property of one Jeff Winger, a farmhouse Jeff never bought. Jeff is in his Lexus and headed toward the address before anyone else can process the implications.

***

It was starting to feel like she'd always been in the basement—that Greendale and her friends were just a dream. She could still picture them, but they weren't clear anymore. She had a memory of remembering more than she could remember them specifically. As the chains pulled her taut, she didn’t bother wondering why.

When he lowered the chains a third time, he told her he thought she would be stronger. Something about the comment, said so off the cuff and casually, ignited her. The apathy mutated into rage and she reveled in it. For a moment it felt so good to feel again she didn't fight the urge to lunge at him. She was too weak, though, and the chains only rattled slightly as she barely managed more than a twitch under their weight. He gave her a patronizing smile then turned and walked back up the stairs; she watched him and snarled through her teeth. Suddenly, so powerfully it felt like it would burst out of her chest, Annie Edison wanted to _live_. She wanted to live more than anything. That knowledge, coupled with seething hate, was more empowering than any of the desperation that had fueled her or the apathetic acceptance that stifled her. By the time he came down the stairs again, so slow and determined, so very fucking pleased with himself, she had a plan. 

Annie was crouched against the wall, her chains pulled around in front with the hard links wrapped around her fists. Her hair hung lank in front of her face, long since forgotten or worried about. He was whistling—she would hate whistling now she knew. She wanted to rip his throat out with her teeth. He stopped, safely out of range and stared at her. The whistling trailed off and she watched his eyes trace the way she clutched the chains in her fists. He had to come close to retract the chains, had to come within striking distance.

“Well, I see we're awake,” he said congenially after a moment. 

Annie said nothing.

“Are you going to be a good girl today?” 

Her hair moved slightly as she forced herself to exhale.

“You know,” he said, moving forward carefully, “I don't like to punish you.”

She waited motionless and soundless, the epitome of weakness until he was almost touching the lever that would string her up again; if he touched it, she was powerless again, caught, but if she moved too soon, he would jump away from her and she would lose her chance. So, she waited.

When he reached above her head, his arm outstretched, and his torso vulnerable Annie sprung. Adrenaline and spite kept her abused muscles from giving out this time and she punched, chain links wrapped around her fist, directly into his kidney. He doubled over in surprise, his breath exploding across her face, and she punched again—this time directly up into his chin. 

His skull snapped back, and she heard a delicious _clink_ as his teeth snapped together. Bloody spittle flew from his mouth and she smiled, swinging again, but he managed to get his hands up this time, deflecting her next blow into his shoulder. Then his own hand came around, his fist connecting with her temple and sent her reeling. She fought the dizziness, knew he was headed for the lever and threw herself into him, knocking him away. She was so limited by the chains—she needed to control his position. 

Coiling her legs under her, she jumped as he tried to push himself to his feet and landed on his back, wrapping her limbs around him like a snake, she struck out with teeth and fingers. He howled in pain as she ripped a chunk of his ear off and he slammed backwards in response to her attack, knocking the wind out of her, crushing her into the concrete. Spinning he reached up and she knew, she knew he had her. In desperation she looped her chains around his neck even as he flipped the lever, and the mechanism retracted her freedom. His eyes bulged as it tightened and he scrambled to shut it down again, but she was tied to him now; the chains that held her were the same that were killing him, and she pulled his fingers behind his head, even as he thrashed next to her against the wall.

It was over so fast, but it was a moment Annie feared she would be locked in forever.

She breathed hard; blood was pouring from her nose mingling with the split lip, and scraped temple. She was still dizzy from the punch to her head. She probably had another concussion. In the wake of the rage, she felt—hollow. The rage was all she could remember feeling; it was all she'd ever felt. Nothing before, nothing after. Their bodies swung slightly, the chains clinking in the sudden silence and she hung there, a belated terror replacing the rage; terror he would come back to life—terrified this was all some game he played to give her hope.

When the truth of his glassy, bulging eyes sank in she started thrashing, desperate to get away. Her hands were trapped in the twisted links around his neck and her feet dangled off the ground. Her elbow scrapped hard across the concrete and the pain centered her. She needed to release the lever—lower herself to the ground and get some slack. 

She couldn't reach it; her hands were caught, but he could. Using his forearm, she batted at it with his limp, dead hand, trying to move it. She worked at it, cursing and spitting blood, when suddenly she met resistance. She pushed _—_ and fell to the floor in a heap of chain and limbs. Then she was up, skittering as far away from his dead body as her bindings allowed. She had to get out of the shackles. Half of her started hoping he was stupid enough to keep the key on him. The other half of her told her she would still die here, but at least he had died too.

She had stopped him from hurting anyone else. That wasn’t a bad way to go.

Crawling back to his body even as her brief hope fizzled, she rifled through his clothing. Some strange part of her, some civilized part that had distanced itself the moment Rich put her head through that wall, asserted itself—what would she even do if she managed to get free? Go back to the apartment with her friends who lived in a blanket fort? Finish her degree at Greendale? A broken sound pushed out from between her lips, something like a laugh, but too mean to be humor.

Then, her fingers felt metal in his pants pocket. Pulling it out she saw something that looked vaguely like an Allen wrench. The angle was all wrong and she dropped it, then dropped it again. With careful, controlled breaths she contorted one hand, ignoring the bite as metal sliced through skin, and fit the wrench into the bolt holding the shackle on her left hand tight. Twisting, careful not to knock it free again, a sound—was that relief? disbelief?—came out of her when it finally loosened enough to slip off her wrist. Fighting for coordination as blood rushed back into her fingertips, she stumbled through loosening her right hand.

After the second manacle clattered on the ground, she threw herself up the stairs, stumbling and desperate to get out of the basement, away from the crumpled corpse of Rich. The basement door stood open, and Annie crashed through it scanning the mundane house for an exit. She saw the door and her panic blacked everything else out. Running outside she didn't stop when her bare feet pounded across the frozen ground or think to go back inside for a blanket. Her mind was consumed with the need to escape, to get as far away as she could. 

The lights of the city lit the night in the distance, and she saw the highway at the end of a long twisting lane. She pounded down the dirt path leaving a trail of bloody footprints. She reached the highway and saw headlights barreling through the darkness toward her. There were more headlights behind those, but they were too far away. She wanted to stand in the middle of the road and beg for help. She wanted to run into the bushes and cower until they passed. Caught between desperation and panic her legs made the choice for her as her body collapsed in on itself. She was just so tired. She dropped to her knees as the light cut across her face, groaning at the glare and sitting back on her heels, her hands laying limp at her sides.

From far away she heard the sound of screeching tires and tasted burnt rubber on her tongue. The car skidded to a stop and then someone was screaming her name.

“Annie!” someone yelled. “Annie! Annie!” 

Stop, she wanted to say. Don’t say my name. Never say my name. I hate my name.

Material wrapped around her shoulders and she was pulled against a warm body as someone pushed the hair back from her face, rubbed her arms, and kept calling her name. She wanted them to go away; she wanted them to stop touching her and just let her sleep. But they wouldn't stop talking; they kept covering her up with more material and her skin stung as it warmed. Opening her eyes slowly she looked up, waiting for the face above her to focus before she told it to shut up.

“Annie?” it asked frantically. “Annie, look at me Annie. It's me. I'm here." 

She groaned as his fingers skimmed bruises and abrasions and the hand jerked away.

“The ambulance is on its way,” the voice rambled. “You just need to hold on a little longer.”

She squinted as the haggard visage in front of her came into focus. It was familiar but forgotten; it felt like she hadn't seen him in a lifetime. Too much beard growth and bags under his eyes made him older. His blue eyes were glassy and his hair laying askew in the shadows of the headlights cutting around his body. His lips thinned as he met her weak stare, and she felt the hand under her back twitch as if he wanted to pull her to him but fought the impulse.

“Annie?” he asked softly, worry making his voice higher.

“Jeff,” she whispered, the effort to talk so far beyond her. She let her eyes close again, exhaustion shutting her down completely. She had survived. Annie wasn’t sure how she felt about that.


	2. Chapter 2: Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now they heal.

Jeff didn't know how long he'd been awake. He knew it was a while. It had been so long since he slept his body didn't even feel exhausted anymore. Shirley had reminded him he should sleep, and he recognized she was right in the same way he recognized he was on edge. None of that mattered. He wouldn't sleep until he knew Annie was okay; he couldn't.

She was sleeping now; her body peppered with bruises and cuts, an IV sticking out of her hand as nurses came in and pushed buttons and wrote things down. Britta was curled up, snoring lightly in the chair next to the bed. Shirley had gone home reluctantly with strict instructions to call her as soon as Annie woke up. Pierce, Troy, and Abed were in the waiting room driving everyone there crazy with movie reenactments and inappropriately personal stories. Jeff didn't know if anyone thought to call Annie's parents. He didn't particularly care.

They were Annie's family. They had worried about her, cried about her. They had found her.

He scrubbed his hand through his hair and blew out a sigh; there was another reason he couldn't sleep. The real reason he couldn't close his eyes. Every time he sat down, sat still for longer than a moment, he saw her again. He saw her, collapsed on the road—bloody and naked. He'd very nearly run her over. He couldn't leave her room for more than a minute; he needed to know she was okay, needed to make sure she was safe, and he couldn't trust anyone else. He wanted her to look at him and give him her Annie smile and tell him she was going to be okay. 

She was safe. He knew she was safe because Rich was dead. The first thing the cops did when they arrived was drive up to the house. Some poor rookie came back to the street and asked if any of them had been inside; Jeff badgered the poor kid until he told them why—a move that probably got the rookie fired, but Jeff couldn't care about that right now. They found a body in the basement the kid said. His name was Rich. There were chains and the man had been strangled in them. Strangled in the basement. There were chains in the basement. He had seen the way her wrists were rubbed raw as he held her there on the road; he had seen the blood caking her face, her hair, her body. He needed to know that she knew she was safe. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her there, on the road. Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered walking away from her, leaving her alone with Rich. 

It was his fault. It was all his fault. Jeff didn’t sleep.

He stepped out to the waiting room for just a moment. He was checking on Pierce, Troy, and Abed. That was when she woke up screaming. He'd picked up another Styrofoam cup and was filling it with coffee when a broken voice jerked everyone awake. The cup dropped forgotten onto the tile floor spilling coffee in a splatter along the wall. Jeff was in her room, holding her hand before Britta had uncurled herself from the chair in the corner.

Annie had ripped the IV out of her hand and she was pulling frantically at the blankets wrapped around her feet. Her eyes were dilated, staring at nothing—nothing in the room—she was trapped in her own nightmare, trying to vault off the bed.

“Annie!” Jeff said, letting go of her hand and grabbing her shoulders. Her response was immediate; she swung her fist into his face, her knuckles splitting his lip and knocking him backwards onto his ass.

“Annie it's Britta,” Britta said in a soothing voice from the side of the bed, as the nurses ran in. “Annie listen to my voice. It's Britta. Wake up honey; wake up and look at me.” Annie cradled her bruised fist to her chest, but she stopped screaming. She was curled up at the head of the bed, shaking in the hospital gown but she blinked, and Jeff could see she was waking up. A nurse got in his face with gauze and he pushed her out of the way. 

“Get him out of here,” someone said in a cold voice, and harsh hands gripped his upper arms, dragging him backward out of the room. Jeff went insane. Annie needed him; she was there, terrified on the bed, and she needed to know that he—that they all were there.

“Mr. Winger,” someone hissed into his face, forcing his gaze to hers. “Mr. Winger that woman in there is _terrified_. Do you understand me?”

“Ye-yes,” he answered still trying to see around the serious face blocking his vision.

“You making a scene, attacking nurses, and getting in our way is _not_ helping.” The stern brown eyes held his attention now as a no-nonsense middle-aged woman reached somewhere off to the side and brought some gauze up to his bleeding lip. “We've allowed you all to stay by her side because she needs familiarity right now. She needs people that love her. But if you can't keep yourself calm and under control, we will evict you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” he answered in a defeated whisper. He was just—he just wanted to help Annie.

“I know you just want to help your friend,” the nurse continued, applying ointment to the cut with a q-tip. Her eyes softened marginally when he hissed at the sting. “But she's going to need space. The best thing you can do for her right now is to get some sleep, some real sleep, and then all of you can stay with her in shifts. You don't want to overwhelm her.”

He nodded wordlessly as she finished tending him and stood up, leaving him sitting lost on the floor. Britta came out of Annie's room then, her eyes going wide when she saw him and she walked over with a small smile and squatted down next to him, smoothing his hair down gently with her hand.

“You need a shower Winger,” she said.

“Thanks,” he replied dryly. 

“And some sleep,” she said, her eyes going more serious. “Annie's okay. I mean, she's not okay at all, but she said she just wanted everyone to go home and sleep right now.”

He felt his heart bottom out, and he knew Britta saw it in his face.

“It's not you Jeff,” Britta told him softly. “She's just not—she just needs some time. Go home. Sleep. Come back tomorrow so I can go home and sleep.” She tried to lighten her words with a small smile, but he knew the truth. Annie didn't want to see him. _Annie_ didn't want to see _him_. Annie knew it was his fault too. 

Jeff stood up and left the hospital without another word, leaving Britta to deal with the others. When he got home, he poured three fingers of scotch and threw it back in a harsh swallow. He poured another one and then one more before he slowed down. It didn't help though, nothing did. He still saw her face every time he closed his eyes.

It was all his fault.

***

Annie couldn't tell when she was dreaming anymore. He was always there; his scent seemed to surround her, to be inside her nose. She could still taste the smell of his sweat on her tongue. Nothing made it go away; even the harsh burn of mouthwash faded too quickly.

She was supposed to be going home today. She was “healing nicely” the doctor had said. She didn't contradict him. She supposed she was. Years of respect for authority figures seemed to hold some control over her; she wanted—fuck, she didn't even know what she wanted. She wanted to be herself again. She wanted to wake up and not remember. She wanted to be able to sleep with the lights off. She wanted to be able to look in the mirror without feeling like some part of her was missing, like something inside her had changed.

Sometimes, usually when it was about midday and everyone was bustling around her room, she and Britta would play cards and she could almost forget. There would be a moment, an ephemeral breath where she felt herself start to smile. But then the skin still abraded around her mouth would pull and she would remember. She would remember why smiling hurt and she didn't smile anymore. 

The first time she showered by herself she spent an eternity in front of the mirror, naked, scanning her body for evidence. It didn't look like her wrists would scar. The scrapes and bruises were already fading—angry yellow and red splotches across her pale skin that disappeared every day. None of that held her attention, though. It was a nice reminder in a way—that first day when she'd stared back at herself, bruised and broken, she'd had strong, visible proof this was bad. She wasn’t making it up or overreacting. She had, somehow, survived a serial killer.

But as the injuries healed those reminders faded and all that was left was this feeling; a feeling that she was somehow... _less_...than she'd been before. This feeling that everyone saw how disgusting she was. And every day Jeff didn't come to see her was more proof. Proof she was ruined.

It all sounded very melodramatic, but that didn't make it any less true. In her darker moments she reveled in the irony that she, Little Annie Adderall the queen of temper tantrums, was now locked into silence by the paralyzing fear of losing the only people she loved. If she screamed or yelled or cried they would leave. Just like Jeff, they all knew she was damaged goods; it was only a matter of time. She played cards with Britta and let Pierce ramble on and on. She was miserable when other people were there, but she was terrified when she was alone. And if they knew she wasn't okay, if they knew that she wasn't “healing nicely” they might get tired of her and leave. They might kick her out of the group. She had chosen Rich over them. She flogged herself with that mistake daily, every time she felt herself getting snippy with Shirley, every time she wanted to tell Abed to shut up, she remembered that she was the one who told Jeff and Britta to leave. She was the one who went on a date with Rich. She was the one who let herself get kidnapped.

“You're not the only person with problems in the world,” her mother used to say. She didn't know why she kept thinking of that.

When she finally went home it all seemed very anti-climactic. Abed and Troy led the way with subdued excitement while Pierce carried her bag behind. Shirley and Britta flanked her, and they approached the apartment cautiously, trudging up the stairs like a funeral procession. She supposed they were all waiting for her to go crazy. They stood in the hallway as Abed unlocked the door and Annie steadfastly kept her gaze away from the new patch in the drywall that practically shined next to the stained, faded walls around it. The patch was right in line with her head. The door opened and they walked inside, all six eerily silent. Annie stood in the middle of the room and turned to see them bunched behind her, varying degrees of trepidation, worry, and anxiety coloring their expressions.

“Do you guys want to watch a movie?” she asked. Her voice was still hoarse from all her hours of screaming, a raspy whisper compared to what it used to be. She wondered, idly, if it would ever return to normal.

“We saved _Space Sheriff 4: Space Justice_ for you!” Abed said excitedly.

“I’ll pop popcorn!” Troy said, leaping into action.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Shirley added, settling into a spot on the couch.

“You know I once smoke dope naked on a mountaintop with the producer’s second assistant of this movie,” Pierce declared.

Annie didn’t smile, but some of the tension around her mouth lessened. And when she fell asleep to the dulcet tones of laser guns and an 8-bit soundtrack it was blissfully, blessedly, dreamless.

***

“Jeff? Jeff, I hope you have pants on I’m coming in.”

Jeff blinked gummy eyes and wiped the drool that was puddled under his cheek. He heard his door open, bottles clinking as they were pushed into each other on the floor. He switched to beer a few times this past week which certainly raised the amount of detritus in his apartment but did no better at making him forget.

Rubbing his eyes, he blinked up at Britta as she came into view. She stared down at him and he rolled over, facing the back of the couch. He knew that look. He deserved that look. But he didn’t want to deal with that look.

“Jeff, Annie came home yesterday,” Britta said, giving his shoulder a sharp poke. “You should have been there.”

“Go away Britta.” He pulled his arms in tighter, trying to soothe the pain in his chest.

“You stink, you know that?” Britta told him, her poking increasing in amount and intensity. “Both literally and figuratively. How could you miss that? Where were you this week? You lose your mind worrying about her, save her, and then you just disappear?”

He turned his face into the pillow and mumbled, “She saved herself.”

“Well,” Britta conceded, “yes she did. But who knows how long she would have lasted out there in the country before she froze to death. The point is—”

“The point is,” he cut her off, rolling back just enough to glare up at her, “that Annie doesn’t want me there and I will _never_ disrespect her wishes again. Now leave me alone.”

He could practically hear Britta’s brow furrow as she worked through what he said.

“Why wouldn’t she want you there?” she finally asked.

It took him a moment to speak, a now-familiar knot blocking his throat as he thought back to that day. Finally, he simply muttered into the couch, “She said she didn’t want to see me.”

“When did she say that?!” Britta asked loudly. She replaced her poking with kicking, the toe of her boot pulling a grunt from him as she kicked his ass. Hard. “That first day in the hospital? The day we were _all_ out of our minds?”

With a growl Jeff finally rolled over and sat up, blocking Britta’s next kick with a curse. “Yes, that day!”

“Jesus, Jeff, that was the first time she’d woken up since…since…” Britta trailed off and finished with a shrug.

Since she escaped from Rich. Since she killed a man in self-defense. Since she’d been kidnapped and tortured for weeks. He scrubbed his face with a hand and reached for the bottle of bourbon he hadn’t finished polishing off before he passed out last night.

“No!” Britta said sharply, pulling the bottle away from him before he had a good grip on it. He lunged to his feet and violently jerked the bottle out of her hand before spinning away and raising it to his lips, draining what was left. Jeff had never felt more pathetic, more useless, and the shame of it—the shame of failing Annie—twisted and burned him.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment,” he snarled, turning slowly back to Britta. “Annie is the one that needs you, not me. Annie is the one who deserves to be worried about, not me. So, go take care of her and leave me the hell alone!”

He finished on a yell, his chest heaving with emotion more than a need for breath. Britta took a step back and he watched as she collected herself, weighing her next move.

“Jef—” she started, reaching for him.

“GET OUT!” he screamed, his voice so loud the bottles around him rattled. Britta jumped, snatching her hand back like he’d burned her. She scurried for the door and was halfway out before she turned back, emotions rippling across her face.

“Annie needs you and you’re acting like an idiot,” she snapped. “This is not over.”

The door slammed behind her and Jeff laughed as he stumbled to the kitchen, finding a bottle of gin from some long-ago party in the back of a cupboard. He took a swig, laughing more as the gin dribbled down his chin. The laughter built and he shook with it, shook so hard he had to bend over, wheezing for breath, and then slid down the cabinets until he could feel the cool tile under his ass. He laughed so hard he cried, the tears running down his face making his nose run until finally, sitting there pathetic and alone on his kitchen floor, Jeff had to admit to himself he’d never been laughing at all. And then he gave into the sobs.

***

When Britta came back two days later, she wasn’t alone. This time she had Abed, Troy, _and_ Shirley with her.

“You didn’t leave Annie alone with Pierce, did you?” Jeff asked, scowling at them all as they filed into his apartment.

“Woah Jeff you need a shower,” Troy said, immediately pulling his shirt up over his nose.

“Jeff,” Abed said, “it does smell very, very bad in here.”

“Oh Jeffrey,” Shirley said quietly. He wasn’t sure if she meant to judge him or if he simply made it impossible not to.

“Okay,” Britta said brusquely, “Troy, Abed—you’re on shower duty. Get Jeff in there and clean even if you have to hold him under the faucet, clear?”

“Clear,” they answered in unison.

“Shirley, you and I are going to try and make all of this,” Britta gestured vaguely at the graveyard of empty bottles and take-out containers littering every surface, “less pathetic.”

“Ouch,” Jeff said dryly then fixed his gaze on the approaching couple. “If either of you two put a nerdy hand on me I will rip it off and beat you with it.”

Troy stumbled, but Abed was unfazed. “You will not,” Abed said, reaching down without hesitation and grabbing Jeff’s arm.

“Abed—” Jeff started, but then he was yanked to his feet, caught off guard by the strength of Abed’s grip. Before Jeff knew what was happening Troy was recovered and had his other side. “No! What are you—stop!”

His cries drifted behind him, but no one listened, and he was forcefully marched into the bathroom where they plunked him down on the toilet. Troy stood in front of him, arms crossed and looking surprisingly intimidating while Abed turned on the shower.

“Now Jeff,” Abed said like he was speaking to an unruly child. “Are you going to get in this shower on your own or do we have to make you?”

“Fuck off,” Jeff said, but there was no heat in it. “I can take a shower on my own.”

“Doubtful,” Abed replied. “I will sit on the toilet to ensure you don’t pass out and Troy will go find you some clean clothes.”

“Abed I am not going to shower while you sit in here and babysit me,” Jeff told him, but the other man didn’t back down as Jeff expected. Instead, he pulled Jeff upright and manhandled him until Abed stood firmly between Jeff and the now closed bathroom door. Jeff told himself it was shock that made him so easy for Abed to shove around and not the alcohol-fueled self-destructive spiral he’d been riding for the last…however long it had been.

“Jeff you seem to be confused,” Abed said. “You’re used to this being a comedy, a farcical adventure where you play the straight man surrounded by the gentle buffoonery of a supporting cast of wacky characters. But we’re not in a comedy anymore Jeffrey now we’re in something that would probably be nominated for an Oscar which is a genre that, as a rule of thumb, I hate. And that’s not getting into the irony of the Academy awarding movies that sensationalize sexual assault while protecting men who—”

“Abed!” Jeff interrupted, head spinning.

“My point is we don’t always get to choose our stories, Jeffrey,” Abed seamlessly continued. “And Annie isn’t a supporting character in this one—this is her story now and our job is to help her get through it so this doesn’t get any more tragic. To do that she needs her friends and, more than her friends, she needs you because even now, even after everything, you make her feel safe. You make her feel valued. You also sometimes make her feel patronized, but I trust you won’t—”

“ABED.”

“So, get in that shower Jeffrey and clean yourself up because right now you look like someone’s dirty sock that’s dried and crusty with who-knows-what and you smell just as bad.” With that Abed crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow at Jeff, fairly daring him to challenge anything Abed had just said.

He was right and Jeff knew he was right. And Abed was going to win this little encounter because he wasn’t just right—Jeff did smell. But Jeff didn’t want to give in so easily; no one knew better than Jeff what a pathetic loser he was but admitting it, getting in the shower like he was told after being chastised like a whiny…

He looked at Abed again and the younger man merely motioned towards the shower with his chin. With a sigh and no small amount of shame Jeff stripped and stepped under the hot spray. And for the first time in his long, ridiculous life, Jeff Winger accepted that some things mattered more than his pride, his ego, or his self-loathing. And that something was Annie. He only hoped he didn’t let her down again.

***

Shirley and Britta had three garbage bags full and were nearly finished with the fourth one when things finally quieted down in the bathroom and they heard Jeff get in the shower. Both heaved a sigh of relief and shared a look across the room. The apartment was still a disaster, but at least it didn’t look like a frat house after Mardi Gras anymore.

“Are we doing the right thing?” Britta asked. “Annie hasn’t actually asked to see Jeff. What if she—”

“Britta,” Shirley cut her off gently. “We found each other in that study room by chance and we became friends against all odds. There is nothing about our personalities that should keep us together through everything these past few years.”

Glass clinked as Britta dropped more bottles into the bag. “But this is—” Britta started and stopped. She didn’t know what this was, and she definitely didn’t have the words to describe it.

Shirley reached out, a warm hand landing on each of Britta’s cheeks and pulling her gaze to the older woman. “It doesn’t feel this way right now,” Shirley said seriously, “but we are so incredibly lucky. _Annie_ is so lucky. That she isn’t dead? That’s a miracle Britta. Four women died. Four women didn’t escape but Annie did, and she made sure he would never hurt anyone else again.”

“She killed a man,” Britta whispered. “She was…she was…” None of them had talked about it. None of them had talked about any of it.

“Yes, she killed him,” Shirley said, her voice unwavering even as tears gathered in her eyes. “And I will be profoundly grateful every day until I die that Annie did. And it will change her. And it will change us because she’s one of us. But what I know down to my bones is that when something like this happens you have to come together. Families stick together. And Jeff is part of our family. Annie needs him just as much as she needs the rest of us.”

“How are you so good at this Shirley?” Britta sniffled.

“Oh honey there’s no being good at this,” Shirley smiled sadly. “There’s just knowing what really matters and trying real hard not to fuck that part up too bad.”

***

Annie had discovered her favorite way to spend the day was alone in her room but with her door cracked so she could hear the voices of her friends. She came out sometimes—to eat, to play a boardgame, even the occasional movie, but it generally left her exhausted and irritable. When she was with them, she had to pretend, had to reassure them she was okay. But she didn’t want to be alone either; she never told any of them, but a few days ago when she was completely alone for less than an hour, she ended up sobbing in the shower, panicked someone would break in.

She wasn’t exactly sure where most of them went today, but she asked Pierce to stay and he quickly agreed. And now his gentle snores from the couch soothed her, a constant reminder that someone else, someone safe, was in the apartment with her. This couldn’t last forever, Annie knew; she had to learn how to be alone again, but her therapist kept telling her to take it at her own speed.

With a sigh she tossed her journal across the room and flopped back on her bed. Her therapist had also told her to journal and, ever the diligent student, Annie had tried. Just last night she dutifully recorded her nightmares, again, after waking herself up, again. She was always screaming in the nightmares, almost like her subconscious was trying to save her from itself, but Annie didn’t think she’d ever screamed out loud. No one had rushed in to check on her and she couldn’t imagine Troy or Abed saying nothing if she were filling the apartment with agonized cries every night.

She perked up when she heard the door open and voices filled the apartment; they were all back from wherever they went, and she approached her door cautiously. Maybe they could all play a game, something to pass the time and take her mind off how much the therapy wasn’t helping.

_Little Annie Adderall…_

“No!” she growled through her teeth, giving her head one violent shake. The trauma from high school and being kidnapped were all twisted together in her brain now—flashes and snippets of memories, the text messages, all of it popped up without cause or warning. She would be fine, _normal_ , and then suddenly she was remembering being mocked, laughed at, touched. This was the other reason it was hard to be with the others even though she couldn’t be without them. When the flashbacks hit, she wasn’t always sure where she was for a moment, couldn’t always control her physical response. Everyone already treated her like she was fragile, Annie couldn’t bear to give them more reason.

A knock on her door made her jump and Annie leapt back onto her bed so it wasn’t so obvious she was lurking. “Yes?” she called.

“Annie?” Shirley’s voice came from the other side. “We’re going to play a game if you want to join us.”

“Okay, be right out!” Her voice sounded so chipper, so _Annie_ , but she had to concentrate to wipe the sneer off her face. Not at Shirley but at herself. Why did she insist on pretending? But what else was she supposed to be?

Closing her eyes, Annie took a big breath in through her nose and then let it out, slowly going through her list. “Binders, folders, paperclips, post-it notes, dividers, notebook paper, highlighters, pens…” As her heart rate settled once again, she opened her eyes and let what she hoped was a pleasant expression settle on her face. She could do this. It was fine. She was fine.

“What are we playing?” she asked in a chipper tone as she walked into the main room. Her smile, already faked, froze on her face as Annie’s brain scrambled to be cool. _Be cool, be cool, be cool, be cool,_ she told herself. “Hi Jeff.”

“Hey Annie,” Jeff said, not really meeting her look.

Great, Annie thought, just fantastic. He’s finally here but he still can’t look at me. Jeff had seen her that night. Jeff had found her and now he couldn’t even look at her. With a shaky breath and because she’d had a lifetime of practice, Annie Edison began to perform normality. She would just be cool. Be normal. Maybe then everyone could just forget what happened. Move on. It may be a lie, but it was one that got her this far.

“Annie,” Troy said, stepping between her and Jeff. “We found this super cool game called _Sorry!_ You roll the dice and then—”

“I’m sure she knows what _Sorry!_ is Troy,” Britta interrupted him.

Troy looked aghast. “You mean you have all known about this amazing game and you never told Abed and I?!”

“Sorry,” Britta shrugged.

“Come on,” Annie said, taking her place at the table. “Let’s show Troy and Abed what it means to be sorry.”

“You’ve got to ask yourself one question,” Abed said in a gravelly tone, taking the lid off the box and setting things up, “do I feel sorry? Well, do ya, punk?”

***

Jeff didn’t even like boardgames. He liked games where he could talk his way to victory, not dice rolling games where a one was a one no matter how he tried to spin it. And he tried. He literally tried spinning the dice for a better number, but Shirley caught him and then he had a ten-minute lecture from Britta about cheating.

He did have to admit he’d missed this.

The game was only made for four players so Abed had decided to commentate and Pierce left when they told him he couldn’t just say “Sorry!” and then knock pawns off the board—unsurprisingly, it was only Jeff’s pawns Pierce took issue with. Then Britta and Troy teamed up leaving Annie, Shirley, and Jeff to play the other three spots. Jeff was in the lead with one pawn already home and two more nearly to the safe zone and he was beginning to taste victory. But then Shirley rolled a five and knocked one pawn back to Start and Troy rolled a seven taking out a second.

“Oh, that’s a bad break for Jeff Winger,” Abed said into his pretend microphone. “Mere moments from the safe zone he’s now down to one pawn on the board. Will he be able to recover? Now here’s Annie and she rolls a six! Wait a minute folks, this could be disastrous for Winger as Edison counts one, two, three, four, five, six and yes! She’s on the slide! Her pawn makes its move and sends Jeff Winger’s last piece back to Start! I don’t know if he can recover folks, this is looking more and more like Edison’s game now.”

“Abed,” Jeff snapped. “Make sure you tell the people at home that I’m not the only one cheating in this game.”

“Sorry,” Annie said, sounding anything but, and, for the space of one breath, they shared a look like they used to. Annie’s cheeky grin and Jeff’s sardonic smirk, a secret shared between them of teasing and promises. And then she blinked, and her gaze turned hooded. The moment was over.

“It’s not cheating just because you’re losing Jeff,” Troy told him, oblivious to the storm of emotions her look set off inside of him.

Jeff wanted to offer his usual witty reply, but his brain had gone off the rails. That was Annie, _his_ Annie, she was still in there. But she couldn’t stand to look at him, to joke with him. How could he be so stupid as to let them all bully him into coming here? Annie didn’t want to see him; all he did was remind her of how he let her down. All she saw when she looked at him was the friend that abandoned her when she was being stalked by a fucking serial killer because he was jealous. The self-loathing was sudden, and Jeff sucked in a breath. Dammit he wanted a drink. But drinking wouldn’t help Annie. He had failed her then and he had failed her after.

The dice slipped out of his hand onto the board. Looking up, he met Annie’s gaze across the table. “Sorry,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

He watched her eyes widen, the façade she had in place since he arrived cracking slightly. What he saw made the self-loathing inside him rise up again in another wave, threatening to drown him. He had done that. He had hurt Annie.

“Jeffrey you haven’t even moved yet,” Shirley’s voice drew him back to the game. “How can you be sorry?”

Jeff looked down at the board then back up at Annie, willing her to see his sincerity, to know that he knew it would never be enough. “I’ll always be sorry,” he said.

Annie gasped, her face blanching and the tears welling so fast none of them knew how to respond. “Fuck. You,” she growled at him and then shoved back from the table and ran to her room, the door shutting behind her.

“What the hell Jeff?” Troy demanded.

“I think I am missing social cues again,” Abed stated.

“Annie!” Britta called, rising to go after her but Troy grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

“No Britta,” Troy said then glared at Jeff. “He did it, so he needs to fix it.”

Jeff nodded mutely and rose slowly from his seat. _He did it_. Couldn’t argue with that, but how was he supposed to fix it? Could it even be fixed? It couldn’t be fixed for Michelle. Fuck, he barely even remembered Gwennifer but she was dead too. Because of him. All of those women were dead because of him and Annie was…was…

Jeff knocked on Annie’s door half-hoping she would just tell him to fuck off so he could go home and start drinking again. But instead she said, “Come in.”

***

“I’ll always be sorry.” The words felt like they lacerated her. It was fine. _She_ was fine. Well, as fine as she ever got these days, and then he just…he said…

Sorry for what? She wanted to demand. Sorry I was too stupid to listen to you? Sorry I’m not your sweet Annie anymore? Sorry that I was too scared and too weak to see through Rich and now Slater is dead? There was so much to be sorry for and Jeff had brutally reminded her of that. It was like he was punishing her for daring to enjoy a moment, for daring to forget—even for a second—everything that had happened.

And then, on the heels of the shame, rage overtook her. Blissful, red-hot rage and she welcomed it. Annie felt the anger fill her veins and then she was spitting a curse at Jeff and, oh, she wanted to say more. Fuck you for making me remember what I did. Fuck you for reminding me this is all my fault. Fuck you for being right.

But some small, rational part of her brain knew she shouldn’t say all of that, knew that she had to get up and leave the table before all those words and more came tumbling out. So, she walked away from the game and didn’t even slam her door. Annie didn’t do temper tantrums anymore. After all, she’d had a hell of an education on how useless temper tantrums could be.

She was pacing her room—she should journal or try to meditate, maybe text her therapist—when a small knock came at the door.

“Fuck,” she blew out on a quiet breath. It was Britta or Shirley coming to check on her and she knew from experience they wouldn’t go away. Steeling herself, she turned towards the door and said, “Come in.”

But it wasn’t Britta or Shirley who walked through the door. It was Jeff. Annie looked at him with narrowed eyes, trying to breathe around the rage and shame, the cesspool of emotions looking at Jeff made her feel.

“Annie,” he started, looking down at the floor.

“Fuck Jeff,” she interrupted him meanly. “You can’t even look me in the eye.”

Jeff jerked as if she’d struck him and raised his head, but his eyes still didn’t quite meet hers. “I own you an apology.”

Annie snorted, but there was no mirth in it. “That’s rich,” she said and then felt the blood drain from her face as she heard her own words. The panic attack was as sudden as it was powerful. Annie bent over, her hands on her knees and focused on her breathing. In…out…in…out…

“Annie,” Jeff was saying from somewhere far away. “Annie tell me what I can do, tell me how to help.” She could feel him hovering above her, feel how close his hands were when he reached out on instinct and then stopped himself from touching her.

“Jeff,” she got out, the knot in her throat making speech almost impossible. Her pulse pounded in her head and she couldn’t seem to get enough air. She was winding up, the emotions like a rollercoaster inside her and she was coming up on the first big drop.

_Dirty, dirty, bad, dirty, ruined, sad, broken, dirty, EVIL_ …

The litany of words, disjointed and without context, ran through her head like they always did. She had killed a man. She had killed _Rich._ Rich was a serial killer. Rich had…to Slater…and then to her…

Her butt hit the edge of her bed and Annie felt the mattress dip beside her. She knew Jeff was only here out of pity, knew how pathetic she must seem, but she didn’t have the strength to send him away. Ever since Rich had…Jeff was who she wanted. Jeff was who she longed to talk to. Jeff had always made her feel safe. It was her fault. It was all her fault and Jeff had tried; he had tried so hard to warn her and she hadn’t listened.

“I’m here, I’m here,” a soft voice said above her. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here.”

Annie realized she was crying—ugly, snotty crying that was ripping out of her so violently she struggled to breathe. And there was someone sitting close to her and when she took a breath it was Jeff she smelled. Without another thought she threw her arms around him and gripped him as hard as she could while the panic and anxiety wrecked her. Jeff’s scent reminded her of Greendale, of her friends. He smelled nothing like Rich—that terrible, almost baby powder like scent that seemed to permeate her skin even after she escaped. The odor she kept catching hints of everywhere she went. But here, with her face buried in Jeff’s neck she couldn’t smell it. With Jeff’s arms around her, she felt grounded. She was Annie Edison. This was her room. She was safe.

_Safe, safe, safe, broken, safe, dirty, safe, safe, dirty…_

Annie didn’t know how long the panic attack lasted. Maybe it was an hour, maybe only five minutes. Time wasn’t real to her anymore, hadn’t been since she’d first woken up in chains, terrified and sure she would die. It felt like a rarity for her to be in the moment with her body and not back there or overwhelmed by a future where she would always feel this way or terrified that who she was now was who she’d always been.

The cramping in her arms was the first physical sensation Annie noticed as the storm finally passed. She was gripping Jeff like her life depended on it, his shirt balled up in her fists at his back. But he was holding her just as tightly, his arms a warm, soothing pressure around her instead of constricting and terrifying like everyone else’s had been. Fucking Jeff, she thought to herself. Was it wrong to hate him a little because even after all this—maybe especially because of all this—being near him, being held by him was the one thing she wanted more than anything else? It didn’t make any sense; he was only here out of pity. Annie knew that, but she couldn’t make herself push him away. If pity was the only way she could have Jeff Winger, Annie had to admit to herself that right now, at least, she would take it.

One of his hands was slowly stroking her hair and Annie sniffled, suddenly self-conscious of the way she had cried all over him. She didn’t pull back though. Now that she was here, now that the truth of just how messed up things really were was out Annie didn’t want to give up the first human contact in weeks that didn’t make her recoil.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured against his neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“Annie no,” he said in a worried tone and he tried to pull away so he could look at her, but she held tight. After a moment he relented and went back to stroking her hair. “Annie don’t be sorry.”

“Right,” she muttered, the ghost of a memory flashing in her mind’s eye.

_“I said I was sorry!”_

_“Who cares if you’re sorry! We’re still screwed! Be sorry about this stuff before you do it, and then DON’T DO IT. It’s called growing up.”_

“Who cares if I’m sorry right?” she joked badly.

“What?” he asked, confusion clear in his tone. “No, that’s not—”

“It’s fine Jeff,” she cut him off. “Really. I just…” She took a deep breath and then another. So what if it was pity. He was her friend, right? And it was okay to ask for help. Hadn’t he asked what he could do to help? “Would you stay for a while?”

He stiffened against her, whether in shock or irritation she didn’t know, but his body relaxed against hers again almost as quickly. When he spoke, it was with a tenderness she’d only seen in glimpses over the years. “For as long as you want me to. Milady.”

And through the pain and the confusion and the shame, Annie finally felt her first, undeniable spark of...not happiness exactly, but something good. Something she hadn’t been sure she would get to feel again. With a watery smile she simply replied, “Milord.”

***

Jeff woke up on Annie’s bed with Annie in his arms and, for the count of five heartbeats, was sure he was dreaming. Then the pins and needles shot up his arm into his neck and he was painfully reminded this was reality. And he was only here because Annie needed someone, anyone, and he happened to be the person nearby when she did. Why else would she allow him to be near her?

Tenderly brushing her hair back from her face, Jeff considered himself lucky, though. Someday soon, maybe when she woke up, Annie would remember what a piece of shit Jeff Winger was and ask him to leave. And he would. Stay, go, fetch her slippers—he would do whatever she asked if it helped. Hell, he’d do whatever she asked anyway.

He’d known before all of this happened how he felt about her. Jeff was a pro at lying, especially to himself, but even he couldn’t deny that he had kissed her after that dance because…because he couldn’t not kiss her. She was too young, too sweet, too good. She was Annie and she deserved more from him than what he could give and so he’d walked away. Walked away for an entire summer and convinced himself he was over it, over her.

But the truth was that Jeff knew if he let himself get used to kissing Annie, if he let himself get used to being near Annie, he would never be able to let her go. But it was already too late; she had wormed her way in his heart and the only thing he could give her was keeping his distance. She deserved better than him, so he worked hard at making she got it. His job was to not get greedy and fuck up her life more than he already had.

Well, he thought wryly to himself, so much for that.

And then, lying there in that bed with Annie in his arms knowing someday she _would_ get better and then she _would_ move on and he would never get over her, Jeff Winger did something so out of character, so unexpected, so completely ridiculous even Abed would have trouble scripting it: Jeff Winger committed.

He didn’t speak any words, didn’t so much as nod his head to signify it was done. He simply…made the decision. For as long as Annie needed him, and then for as long as Annie would let him, he would stay by her side. He would be the best friend to her he knew how to be and no matter what he felt, no matter how scared he got, he would not run. She was his friend and he…he loved her. It was time to be honest about that. It was time to be honest about a lot of things.

Ignoring the pins and needles, Jeff pulled her close, smiling when she nestled into him and said his name on a soft sigh. He brushed a featherlight kiss across her brow and then closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

***

“They’re spending _a lot_ of time together,” Britta whispered not nearly as softly as she thought she did.

“I’m confused,” Abed said in a regular tone. “Isn’t that good? Isn’t that why we went and pulled Jeff out of his disgusting, drunken depression?”

“Wow,” Jeff said, plopping down next to them in the cafeteria. “Harsh Abed.”

“I’m sorry Jeff,” Abed apologized. “Was that one of those things that didn’t need my commentary?”

“No Abed,” Jeff replied with a sardonic smile. “I’m done yelling at you for telling the truth. Especially about me.”

“I was in a disgusting, drunken depression in 1979,” Pierce began. “Eartha Kitt had just suck—”

“Pierce!” Shirley cut him off.

“Sucked the life out of a party, Shirley,” Pierce said in an affronted tone. “I don’t know what you thought I was going to say.”

“She thought you were going to say what you always say,” Jeff told him. “Something incredibly inappropriate and clearly sexual harassment.”

“I’ll have you know I have never been found guilty of sexual harassment Jeffrey,” Pierce stated. “And I’ve been up on charges three times.”

“That’s not how that works,” Shirley muttered.

“Hey guys!” Annie said cheerfully, joining them at the table. “Did you know Greendale is offering a course called ‘Christian Heavy Metal: How to Love God Through Anger’ this semester?”

“The Bible says, ‘love thy neighbor’ not ‘keep thy neighbor awake at all hours with your terrible music’,” Shirley said. “I get enough of that from the white boys across the street I don’t need to take a class on it, thank you.”

“I told the Dean he should consider running classes on the role of popular music genres in all world religions and then he said he needed to go shopping for a Bollywood outfit,” Britta told them. “I don’t feel great about where that might be headed.”

“Hi Annie,” a new voice interrupted them. Jeff looked up to see three look-a-like blondes standing next to Annie and felt his stomach bottom out. “We just wanted to say it is so brave of you to be back at school already. I could never show my face after something like that.”

Annie’s face went pale, but Jeff was already responding. “Hey Kaleigh, Kylie, and Kari, maybe since the initials of your group are K, K, and K you should spend a little more time not showing your face because of that.”

All three girls gave dramatically offended gasps, but they turned and left the table. If Jeff hadn’t been so worried about Annie, he would already be plotting how to destroy them with Shirley. Instead, he immediately turned to Annie.

“Hey,” Jeff said to her quietly, “hey you okay?”

Annie gave a shaky nod and Jeff accepted it—it was all relative anyway.

It was a stupid question because no one knew better than Jeff how not okay Annie was, but he also knew how much better she had gotten over the last few weeks. Some way or another he’d ended up spending every night with Annie Edison. Nothing sexual, of course, just…domestic. Jeff wouldn’t call it platonic, though he tried hide how much he enjoyed spending time with her, but they’d settled into a routine of sorts. Britta was right, they were spending a lot of time together because Annie never asked Jeff to leave. So, he didn’t.

He still remembered how she looked waking up that first morning after they fell asleep on her bed. The shadows weren’t gone from her eyes—they were never entirely gone—but they had receded. She had looked at him with the kind of wonder that broke his heart and rebuilt it all at the same time.

“I slept,” she said in disbelief. “I slept the whole night.”

“Is that…unusual?” he had asked awkwardly.

“I haven’t…because I have…yes,” Annie finally answered. Turns out having Jeff next to her helped Annie sleep so he stayed the next night. And the night after that. And eventually he brought an overnight bag and settled in for an extended stay.

He learned a few nights later why she was so surprised. She didn’t wake up screaming and crying from the nightmares, but he always knew when one had her because she twitched and mumbled in her sleep. It was like her body was trying to free her from the prison of her mind. Sometimes Jeff could wake her up and sometimes she settled once he stroked her hair and spoke in a low tone until they both drifted off back to sleep. But sometimes nothing helped until she finally jerked herself awake, eyes wide and terrified, breath coming in desperate gasps. She never offered details and Jeff didn’t ask.

He was here for Annie, not to make her relive an experience more horrific than he could comprehend. When she spoke, he listened. And when she said she didn’t want to talk he accepted it. If their little arrangement was screwed up, it was no more screwed up then everything else about their lives and Jeff worked hard to be the friend Annie deserved. He owed her so much after how he’d failed her.

Eventually the conversation around the table started up again, pulling Jeff’s thoughts back to the present. This was the first week of a new semester; the first week the school was open again after the horrific events of last semester. The first week Annie was back in the world, trying to live something like a normal life.

None of them talked about it, but they all avoided the memorial dedicated to Professor Slater that dominated the quad.

By the time classes were done and they were in his car headed home—no, not home, Jeff corrected himself, Annie’s apartment—Annie had a white-knuckle grip on her binder, and he saw her lips move as she repeated her list to herself over and over. A list she made herself of mundane things, items she could focus on until her mind cleared, and her panic faded.

“How we doing?” Jeff asked quietly.

“Fine,” she answered, but her voice was tight. “Greendale was…is a hard place to be. But there are more good memories here than bad. I don’t want to transfer.”

“You know you won’t lose any of us even if you do,” Jeff said not for the first time, and Annie gave him a weak smile in return.

“I know,” she answered. Jeff hated that tone. That was the tone that said, “I don’t believe you, but I know you want me to.”

They pulled up outside the apartment and Jeff parked, pleased his usual spot was available. Locking the car behind him he held the door for Annie and then followed her up the stairs to the apartment.

Troy and Abed were already home, he could hear them in the Dreamatorium, and he dropped his bag on the table before heading to the fridge for a snack.

“Hey, do you wa—” Jeff trailed off, seeing Annie still standing by the table so stiff and nervous he barely recognized her. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Annie took a breath and set her jaw before she looked at him and Jeff knew whatever she was about to say, he wasn’t going to like it.

“I owe you an apology,” she said. “You took pity on me after, well, after _it_ happened, and I took advantage of that. I know it’s been weeks. In a normal semester you would have been on three dates by now.”

She offered something like a smile, but Jeff could only stare at her, slack-jawed with surprise.

“Anyway,” Annie stumbled on. “I need to learn how to do things on my own again. You shouldn’t have to take care of me forever. That’s not fair to you.”

“But I wan—” Jeff barely stopped himself in time. _But I want to take care of you_ , he almost said. Then his brain zeroed in on the word that first froze him where he stood. “What do you mean I took ‘pity’ on you?”

This time Annie did smile, though it was a sardonic one. “Come on Jeff,” she sighed. “We both know whose fault this all was.”

The words slammed into him like a baseball bat and Jeff felt the air in his lungs whoosh out. They did both know whose fault this was, but he couldn’t understand why she would talk about it like this. Like he was…like she had been _humoring_ him for the last few weeks. Putting up with him.

He should leave. If this is how she felt, he should leave. He promised himself he would. He promised himself he would do what she asked, not take issue with how she asked it. But the words weren’t coming. _Fine_ , he should be saying. _I’ll get out of your hair_. But he simply gaped at her like the useless idiot he was.

“Jeff,” she started, moving towards him. “I didn’t mean—”

And just then Abed and Troy burst from the Dreamatorium, the cardboard ship they were flying clutched firmly around them as they flew through the living room.

“Fire all weapons!” Abed commanded. “Attack pattern Delta!”

“Blorgons!” Troy shouted. “Evasive maneuvers!”

The two men spun around the room and then threw themselves to the side, dodging an imaginary attack only they could see. But they’d lost track of their surroundings and they slammed into Annie sending her straight into the wall. Jeff saw her head hit and then he was flying to her, trying to reach her as fast as he could but it was like he was moving through molasses. Vaguely he heard Troy and Abed, oblivious to what had just happened, continuing their game.

And then all he could hear was Annie’s scream.

***

There were few things Annie Edison wanted more than to keep playing house with Jeff Winger. It had been her dream for so long and now she had everything she ever wanted—Jeff’s undivided attention, his time, even his affection. If only she could have kept her soul to have it.

But Annie had grown up. She had grown up in the harshest, most unforgiving of ways and her therapy now was as much about moving forward as it was about what already happened. As much as she wanted to Annie couldn’t keep using Jeff as a crutch forever; he didn’t love her, not the way she wanted him to, and Annie could not… _would_ not tie herself to a man who pitied her. Not that she thought Jeff had given her these past few weeks out of pity, exactly, but she couldn’t imagine what else it could be.

He slept next to her every night, no complaints and no demands. He kept her company; they played games, they told jokes, they watched movies—Jeff now lived in their apartment as much as she, Troy, and Abed did. And when her period had finally come, her first period after the attack and she had cried until her throat was raw and her chest ached, he brought her water. Handed her a compress for her swollen eyes without comment. Let her hold onto him when she thought she might fly apart.

Turns out Jeff Winger was so much more than even Annie Edison, the girl who had lusted after him for years, dreamed. And as she healed, registered for classes, and prepared to reenter her life Annie knew she had to let Jeff go. He was a better friend to her than she ever deserved, and she owed it to him, and to herself, to figure out how to stand on her own again. Annie legitimately thought he would be ecstatic.

She had been practicing her speech for days and as they drove home—no, drove back to her apartment Annie reminded herself—she psyched herself up. This was it. This was the day to set Jeff Winger free. She barely heard or saw anything as they walked in. She was so focused on not losing her nerve, Annie didn’t even notice she had cut him off.

“I owe you an apology,” she started, her heart hammering in her throat. “You took pity on me after, well, after _it_ happened, and I took advantage of that. I know it’s been weeks. In a normal semester you would have been on three dates by now.”

She tried to laugh, to let him know it was a joke and that she understood what he was giving up by taking care of her. To let him know it was okay. But when she met his eyes, he looked like she’d just told him she stole his puppy.

“Anyway,” Annie stumbled on, less sure now but still committed. “I need to learn how to do things on my own again. You shouldn’t have to take care of me forever. That’s not fair to you.”

“But I wan—” Jeff started then stopped. _You wanted what?_ Annie was dying to ask, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. Instead, she watched the kaleidoscope of emotions cross his expression before they settled into something vaguely like displeasure. “What do you mean I took ‘pity’ on you?”

Annie couldn’t stop the self-deprecating grin she knew twisted her mouth; just like Jeff to deny his real motivations. But Annie was ready for that, ready to admit what had been suffocating her. Ready for him to know she knew the truth—that everything that happened, to Slater, to those other women, and to her, was Annie’s fault.

“Come on Jeff,” she said softly, dropping her eyes. She couldn’t look at him while she said this. “We both know whose fault this all was.”

It took a moment for her to realize he hadn’t said anything, wasn’t even moving. Annie raised her eyes back to his and was horrified by what she saw. His face had gone pale like he was about to pass out and he was staring at her with such…such _pain_. Annie was suddenly moving towards him, horrified he had misunderstood her. Terrified he wouldn’t let her explain.

“Jeff,” she begged, “I didn’t mean—” But she was cut off as Troy and Abed burst into the room, their laser noises and cardboard ship making further conversation impossible.

“Fire all weapons!” Abed commanded. “Attack pattern Delta!”

“Blorgons!” Troy shouted. “Evasive maneuvers!”

Annie could have hurt the two of them in that moment; their timing could not have been worse. She loved her friends and loved the Dreamatorium but if ever there was a moment for cardboard spaceships and evasive maneuvers this was not fucking it.

But before she could so much as say their names, they crashed into her and their combined weight sent her careening into the wall. Her shoulder hit first and then her head slammed into the drywall and then Annie wasn’t there anymore. Annie wasn’t messing everything up with Jeff or irritated at Troy and Abed. She was back in that hallway, so close to the safety of this apartment, and _he_ was there. All her years of karate, all her protestations that he was safe, that she was safe, were failing her. She couldn’t seem to land a blow, couldn’t keep her balance. The pain was lancing through her skull and she was disoriented, so confused by what was happening. So terrified.

So Annie did what most terrified people do: she screamed.

It wasn’t a conscious choice—she felt severed from time again, like she was caught somewhere between then and now. One part of her, a small part, knew she was in her apartment, knew that Jeff and Troy and Abed were right there. But the rest of her wouldn’t trust that part, couldn’t trust it. _He_ was here. He was hurting her. He was going to knock her out and take her and when she woke up she would be chained and he would…he would…

“What the fuck is wrong with you two? Get the hell out of here until she calms down.”

“We didn’t mean to. We’re sorry.”

“I know, I know. It was an accident, I’m sorry I yelled at you. Just give her some space.”

The conversation helped center her, helped pull her back to this time and this place. She was on the floor, her knees pulled up tight against her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her fingers were digging into her arms and she knew there would be marks, but the pain was another anchor. The pain in her arms was not from _him_. The pain in her arms was proof she was here, now, so Annie dug her fingernails into the skin, reveling as the scratches went deeper.

“Annie,” a deep voice said, “Annie it’s me. You’re safe. I won’t,” the voice broke, almost like it was choking on emotion, “we’ll do our best to keep you safe. It’s me. It’s Jeff.”

“Jeff.” His name was more like a broken sob as her eyes finally found his. He was here. She was safe. She was going to let him go today, let him return to his life but nothing grounded her like his scent. No one else made her feel like he did. Annie launched herself into his arms, breathing raggedly as the flashback passed, chanting her apologies like a mantra. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shhh,” Jeff soothed. “There’s nothing to be sorry about—you had a flashback. It’s not the first time. It will pass.” It was all mostly nonsense, things he uttered because he knew his voice calmed her. How, _how_ was she going to show him he didn’t need to pity her when the slightest things reduced her to this? How could she ever make him understand that she _knew_ it was her fault. She _knew_ he had been right. If she could just escape the nightmare, she could be okay, if she could just start to forget.

As the panic passed the shame was hot on its heels. Annie pulled back as far as his arms would allow and scrubbed her face with her hands. “God I’m pathetic,” she muttered.

“Hey,” Jeff said, then again with more intensity, “ _hey_. Look at me—you are not pathetic. Do you understand me?”

“Jeff, I know it’s my fault,” she whispered and then, before he could process what she’d said, Annie was reaching out as her survival instinct overwhelmed her pride. “I know we can’t keep doing this forever,” she told him, “I do. I get that. But maybe…maybe just a little longer? Only if you, you know, don’t mind.”

He was doing that gapey mouth thing Annie always found slightly adorable and she welcomed the relief of a small smile as she put her fingers under his chin and pushed up until his mouth closed. That broke the spell and Jeff blinked, then looked at her, and there was so much in his gaze Annie couldn’t begin to understand it all; she could only look away, still too tender for that much intensity.

“I have an idea,” Jeff said after another beat. “I think, I mean if you want to, I think you should come stay at my apartment. With me. In my apartment.”

“With you.”

“With me.”

“In your apartment.”

“In my apartment.”

Somewhere deep, deep inside Annie Edison where she had buried herself for survival, his Annie was absolutely losing her shit at the idea. The rest of Annie wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. Finally, he invites her to his apartment. All she had to do was get kidnapped, raped, tortured, and kill a man for it to happen.

“There aren’t as many triggers there,” Jeff explained as if she’d asked. “This place—this isn’t the first time this has happened. And I’ll stay with you here for as long as you want me, but it might be good to be somewhere else. Somewhere…different.”

It would be nice to be somewhere different. To not see the shiny plaster patch every day where her head was shoved through a wall. To not wonder—even though she knew he was dead, she was the one that killed him for fuck’s sake—if he was somewhere out there. Watching her. Stalking her.

“You know Jeff I was crazy before all this,” she smirked, “but I’m _really_ crazy now. Are you sure you want me there?”

But Jeff didn’t match her banter, instead he gently cupped her face ensuring she was looking at him and that she couldn’t miss his sincerity. “I want you to be wherever you’ll feel safe and comfortable.”

Annie nodded, giving into the urge to tip her face into his hand, to seek comfort in the warmth of his touch. “I’ll pack a bag.”

The broke apart and stood up. Annie smoothed her hair as she moved towards her room and tried to put herself back together. Again. One would think she would get better at falling apart at some point. How different she was from a year ago. How different Jeff was. How different they all were.

“Who even are we anymore?” she asked no one in particular staring into the bedroom that once represented so much of who she was, but now felt like a charade.

“We go to Greendale,” Jeff answered unexpectedly. “E pluribus anus.”

Annie barked a laugh, a true, genuine laugh and she looked at Jeff with amazement. “E pluribus anus,” she replied, the smile on her face a delightful surprise to them both.

She walked into her room and began packing, still smiling slightly. Maybe, Annie thought, even if she wasn’t any better at falling apart, she was, slowly, getting better at putting herself back together again.

***

Jeff watched Annie walk into his apartment ahead of him and forgot to follow. Instead, he stood there in the doorway, flabbergasted, and it wasn’t until Annie turned around and gave him a quizzical look that he managed to cross the threshold and shut the door behind him.

“Jeff, if you’re not comfortable with this—” she began, and he rushed to cut her off.

“The bedroom is right through there. Bathroom on the right and, well, sorry about the mess.” His friends had cleaned up the worst of it when they came and drug his sorry ass out of his selfish, drunken stupor all those weeks ago, but Jeff had barely been home since then to do any more. There was a musty smell to the place that he knew meant mold was growing somewhere and more than a few beer cans still littered across the floor.

But Annie only waved him off and stepped into the bedroom to show herself around. Jeff followed after her not exactly sure what he meant to do but suddenly more self-conscious than he had ever been in her presence.

“If you,” Jeff stumbled on the words and tried again. “If you want me to sleep on the couch, I’m happy to do it just—”

“Jeff,” Annie said seriously and even though it wasn’t the time for it, even though it was, in fact, incredibly inappropriate, he was suddenly achingly aware that he had Annie, his Annie, in his bedroom. Weeks of sleeping next to each other, of spending nearly every moment together, of sharing secrets and pain and comfort and not once had he been so distracted by how _beautiful_ she was.

“Earth to Jeff,” Annie punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Where’d you go buddy?”

_Buddy_. That was the bucket of ice water he needed to get his head back on straight. “Sorry,” he said, giving himself a shake.

“What I said was please don’t sleep on the couch,” she told him. “This is your apartment and your bed.”

“But we’re here for yo—”

“Jeff Winger I swear if you say we’re here for me I’m going to punch you in the face,” Annie interrupted him. “You’re doing me a favor so please stop acting like you owe me something.”

But he did owe her something. He owed her more than he could ever repay. _We both know whose fault all this was_.

“I sleep better next to you,” Annie blurted into the silence and Jeff couldn’t stop the smile as a little of her old awkwardness peeked through. “If you don’t mind, I mean if it doesn’t bother you—”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Jeff reassured her. She gave him a shy smile and Jeff basked in it. He wondered if she knew how much her eyes twinkled when she did that, or how soft her hair looked haloed by the window behind her.

Mentally kicking himself, Jeff tried to get it together. What was he doing?? This was Annie and she absolutely did not need him wondering how soft her hair was right now. He touched her hair all the time—what made this moment so different? What was this urge he had to pull her into his arms and hold her? To kiss—

“Oh no,” Jeff said out loud as he spun back toward the open bedroom door.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Get yourself settled. I’m…going to clean up. Pizza for dinner tonight?”

“A new episode of _College Cage Fight_ is on,” she called after him. “And don’t forget the cheesy sticks!”

“What do you take me for, an animal?” Jeff demanded with mock outrage. “No full-grown man forgets the cheesy sticks.”

Hours later, as Annie was slowly sliding into a ball of sleepy human next to him on the couch, Jeff was officially perplexed by his inability to relax. They had cleaned until Annie declared his apartment “stink free,” the pizza came (with cheesy sticks) and they settled into the couch to eat and watch TV. It was a routine that was practically second nature at this point, but Jeff was terrified of going to bed. Normally, one of them would ask if the other was tired, they would get ready for bed and then slide in next to each other. Sometimes they would read, sometimes they would talk, often Annie curled up next to him, her face next to his neck and her breath tickling his skin. It was routine. It was normal. There was no reason for Jeff to feel self-conscious. And not once in all the nights they had spent together had he felt a twinge of arousal.

Well, Jeff corrected himself, that wasn’t entirely true, but he certainly never wanted to act on it. He’d barely been aware of it—that might be a lie too, but the point was tonight was _different_. And Jeff hated that.

He didn’t deserve Annie and he knew she didn’t want him; how could she after how he’d failed her? _We both know whose fault this all was_. They did both know, but Jeff had let himself believe that maybe, somehow, she wasn’t holding it against him. The way she trusted him, the easy back-and-forth of their banter, he’d even made her smile a few times—Jeff had begun to hope…fuck, he didn’t even know what he hoped.

His suggestion they come here was genuine; today wasn’t the first time Troy and Abed’s shenanigans triggered something for Annie and Jeff didn’t miss the way she looked at the patched wall every time they walked by it. That apartment was one big bad memory for her, and he thought she might appreciate living somewhere she wasn’t reminded of it every day. It was a good suggestion, he thought, a solid move on his part. And then they got here, and they were alone and the more time that passed, the more Jeff had to admit he knew what feeling was building up inside him. This wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way. After the dance when he’d kissed her. All the times his jealously had reared up when he saw her with other men. All the times he’d imagined her like this, with him in his apartment, with him in his car just…with him, on him, around him, begging him while he stroked himself to completion.

Jeff had never admitted he carried those fantasies to anyone and after everything that had happened, for a while he forgot he ever had. But now—in the quiet calm of night with the TV volume on low and Annie’s arm sneaking around his waist as she got more comfortable, he realized he needed to get himself under control and fast. He had no idea how she would react to knowing how he felt, no idea if she would be flattered or terrified and Jeff would not break her trust. It was him she turned to, despite all the damage his mistakes caused, and he would not risk that. Now he just had to convince his dick to get with the program.

“Annie,” he said softly, “Annie are you ready for be—” The words cut off in a choked gasp. She had shifted against him again and her arm had slid down his stomach lighting ever nerve on fire along the way before coming to rest directly over his cock. The warm weight of her touch had him clenching his teeth as all the blood ran straight to his groin and the dam of arousal he’d been holding back all night burst. Jeff was so hard he had to clench his teeth and take a moment to get himself back under control. Tenderly, he reached down to pull her arm up so he could disentangle himself and put some distance between them before she woke up and demanded to know what the fuck his problem was. But Annie was already waking.

“Jeff?” she asked sleepily. Her eyes, shadowed by the dark room and shifting light from the TV, blinked up at him and she pulled back to sit up. But as her arm, and then her hand, slid back across his groin Jeff couldn’t quite stop the hiss her movements pulled out of him. Annie froze, the damning evidence of just what kind of scumbag he was, throbbing and undeniable under her palm.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, his jaw tight. “I shouldn’t be…but you know it just…fuck.” He was frozen, unable to move, unable to properly explain himself, at her mercy and silently begging her to forgive him for this.

“Jeff.” She whispered his name on a breath and her hand twitched on his cock, her fingers curling briefly around the material of his taut pants, but she didn’t pull back. Jeff began to count backwards from one hundred and wondered if maybe he had actually died in his sleep and this was Hell. This was how he would be punished for all eternity—couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it.

“Annie,” he ground out, not sure where he was going with it. Apologize again? Act like nothing was out-of-the-ordinary? Lie and tell her he had a flashlight in his pants? But then she was leaning in closer, not pulling away, and Jeff’s eyes dipped to her lips now only inches from his own.

“Kiss me Jeff,” she told him. Well, he thought, he did say he would do whatever she asked.

The kiss started out soft and slow. Despite the need raging inside him Jeff only leaned forward those last few inches and placed his lips on hers. He didn’t grab her even though he wanted to. Instead, one hand remained on her back where he had wrapped it around her as they dozed and the other clenched into a fist at his side.

He tried to let Annie set the pace, reciprocated the soft kisses she gave him and held himself back from pushing for more. But she grew more insistent, her lips pressing against his with more intensity and when he felt her tongue trace the seam of his lips, Jeff couldn’t stop his groan as he opened his mouth and deepened the kiss.

He did hold her closer, then, as his arm tightened and pulled her against him while his other hand came up and buried itself in her hair. How had he touched her hair so often and never noticed how silky it felt? The way the strands slid between his fingers and somehow made his dick even harder? And then Annie was up on her knees, never breaking the kiss and she threw one leg across and straddled him, her hand finally releasing its hold only to be replaced by the warm heat of her body grinding down.

Jeff’s eyes practically rolled back in his head at the pleasure of it and his hands dropped to her ass, pulling her tight as his hips rolled up against her.

He stopped thinking, stopped worrying about what they were doing or why, as the pleasure overwhelmed him. Annie was writhing on top of him making strange mewling sounds that were driving him crazy and Jeff broke the kiss to trail his lips across her jaw, down the column of her throat to the pulse point where he nipped and sucked. He took one hand off her ass and slid it up under her shirt, the silky skin under his palm warm and supple. His hand moved up and up until his fingers found her breast and he gently tweaked her nipple through her bra.

“Annie,” he breathed against, “Annie, Annie…”

It took him longer than it should have to realize she stopped moving. Coming out of a daze Jeff lifted his head, his hand still palming her breast, as he looked at her. What he saw burst his arousal like a bubble and he jerked his hand away as icy fear replaced the burning need he’d been feeling only a moment ago.

She was frozen, rigid like a panicked animal that wanted to run but didn’t know how. Her eyes were squeezed shut so tight her cheeks pulled her lips into a grimace and as he watched two tears trickled out and tracked their way down her face. Jeff thought he couldn’t hate himself more than he already did, and he wasn’t prepared for how much it hurt to realize he’d been wrong.

“Annie,” he said using the tone he always did when he knew she’d been yanked through time back _there_. “It’s Jeff, I’m here. You’re safe.”

It was a variation of the mantra he usually used, his voice seemed to function as an anchor of sorts helping her mind lock in on where and when it was. It was babbling, mostly, but after several long moments he felt and saw her body start to relax. Several moments more and her eyes opened, the pain that haunted her gaze lacerating him as she focused on his face.

“Oh, Jeff I’m so sorry,” she said. “I don’t…I didn’t…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he replied quickly. “Do you hear me? You did _nothing_ wrong.” He wanted to reach for her, to hold her, but touching her was the trigger this time so he left his hands loose and open at his sides, making sure she felt free to move.

“No, it was…I wanted to but then…” She was stammering, fighting herself and her memories to get the words out and Jeff felt worse than useless. First, he fucks up and pushes her too hard too fast, and now he can’t do anything but sit uselessly underneath her while she shook like leaf.

“Annie I—”

“Will you,” she interrupted him then paused, licked her lips, and swallowed something that seemed dangerously close to a sob. “Will you not say my name?”

Jeff didn’t know what he expected her to say but that wasn’t it. His shock was short-lived though and he was already nodding. “I won’t,” he reassured her, “not if you don’t want me to.”

“Thank you it’s just,” she dropped her head, her hair falling like a curtain that blocked her expression from him. Her hands came up and she clutched at his shoulders and he knew she was focusing on her breathing, focusing on slowing her pulse and reminding herself she was safe.

“Can we just go to sleep?” she asked quietly after another long moment.

Instead of bothering with an answer he simply helped her stand and then shut off the TV and followed her into the bedroom. They crawled into bed, but she didn’t curl up next to him like she normally did. Instead, she rolled onto her side, facing the wall and pulled her knees up tight.

“Do you want me to—”

“No,” she cut him off sharply and he saw her take another big breath. When she spoke again her tone was more moderated. “Please stay. Just…just sleep.”

“Okay.” He settled in next to her and closed his eyes, but sleep didn’t come for a long, long time. Instead, his brain played her words on a loop over and over and over again.

_We both know whose fault this all was._

***

Annie was mortified. She was a lot of other things too but sorting through those wasn’t in the cards, so she settled on the mortification and really embraced it. How could she take advantage of Jeff like that? They both knew how she felt about him— _did_ feel about him apparently—but Annie had been so unprepared for her response. When she woke up on the couch, first she was horrified to realize where her hand was; she meant to retreat to her own space immediately, to ignore the faux pas and shove it under the rug with everything else they never talked about, but the sound of his hiss and the proof of his arousal had made her want something she wasn’t sure she would ever want again. And when Jeff didn’t stop her, when he let her explore, to set the pace and figure out if she really did want it—if she really did want him…

Her body roared back to life and Annie wanted nothing more in that moment than to rediscover her passion with Jeff Winger. To be touched and held and worshiped by a man she trusted, a man who made her feel safe. A man who made her feel loved. A man whose warnings she had ignored and who rushed to an isolated farmhouse, in the dead of night, with no back up to save her anyway. It was bliss. Until it wasn’t.

She didn’t, couldn’t have known how she would react in her first sexual situation. And she knew she should have talked to him more and kissed him less—where was the discussion of boundaries and trauma responses? They hadn’t even established rules or a safe word in case she found herself frozen, unable to respond. Which she was but, thankfully, Jeff had noticed. It wasn’t fair to expect that of him, though; he had no indication when everything went from the best make-out session of her life to a living nightmare.

Because when he touched her breast instead of enjoying the sensation she flinched, waiting for the pain. And then as he chanted her name against her neck, she fell out of time again—her body here but her mind and soul back there. It wasn’t Jeff touching her anymore, wasn’t Jeff saying her name. She was trapped, chained and unable to move or fight or do anything except try and survive.

Annie pulled her knees in tighter shaking and feeling like she couldn’t get warm. Why was this happening now? She liked Jeff; she wanted Jeff.

_My fault my fault my fault my fault…_

But she didn’t deserve Jeff. She didn’t deserve anyone, not after how she’d screwed up all their lives. Not after she didn’t save Slater. Not after she killed…him.

The bed dipped and Jeff got up, moving quietly around the room. Annie turned her face to the pillow and swallowed the sobs caught in her throat. She’d always been a crier, she’d even used tears to get her way once or twice at Greendale, but this was ridiculous. She could not just keep losing her mind like this! Annie wanted her life back. She wanted to go to classes and kiss boys and do all the things that used to make her so happy. She wanted to go back in time and stop herself from making the worst mistake of her life.

A blanket settled over her and she jerked at the unexpected touch.

“You were shaking,” Jeff said softly. “I thought you might want another blanket.”

_Thank you_ , she wanted to say. _I’m sorry_ , she wanted to say. _I know it’s my fault._ But nothing came out. More words unspoken. More thoughts unshared.

He got back into the bed and Annie silently begged him to roll over and hug her. She yearned for how safe she felt when his arms were around her. She wanted his touch to ground her and keep her here, now. But he did none of that, of course, because she didn’t tell him to. He respected her space because less than an hour ago touching her and sent her spiraling out of control. If she wanted him to touch her, she should ask him if he wanted to. If she wanted anything from him, she should tell him not simply expect him to know.

If she wanted him to know how sorry she was, that she knew her cowardice and selfishness had cost Michelle Slater her life, that she understood everything he had sacrificed for her because it turned out Jeff Winger was the one person who made her feel sane…she was going to have to tell him.

Would he forgive her? Could he? Could she forgive herself? Would he ever want to touch her again if she explained all the things that might set her off? All the ways she was still fighting with her own body? All the responses she worried she could never unlearn?

Was she even brave enough to find out? When Annie finally drifted off the room was silent, but her thoughts were still screaming in her head.

The next morning Annie stumbled out into the kitchen to find Jeff already there, sipping coffee and looking far too serious. Annie briefly debated turning around and going back to bed, but Jeff must have read it in her expression because he picked up a mug for her and simply said, “Here.”

She approached hesitantly, nodding her thanks; Jeff’s eyes were trained on his own cup, cradled between his hands and Annie took a step towards the couch, daring to hope whatever was going on with him wasn’t about her.

“We need to talk.”

In the all the history of all the languages of the world, Annie couldn’t imagine any variation of that phrase ever made a person’s day better.

“Okay,” was all she said still caught somewhere between taking a seat and running away.

“Annie,” he started and then exclaimed, “will you come sit?”

They both winced at his tone and he was already apologizing as Annie sat in one of the bar chairs next to the counter.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…I want…when you…”

“Jeff,” she sighed, saving him from trying to find the words himself. It felt like someone had a hand around her heart and was squeezing it, stopping the muscle from getting blood and oxygen to the rest of her body, but he was right. They did need to talk. And Annie knew exactly what she needed to say.

“I’m the one who should apologize,” she began quietly, eyes focused entirely on the coffee in front of her. “You have been…what you’ve done…”

“I know what I’ve done,” he interrupted her, a strange note in his voice. “That’s why I want to talk, I owe you—”

“Jeff you don’t owe me anything,” she said, looking up at him. “You’ve been so patient with me, such a good friend. A better friend than I deserve and I’ve—”

“How can I ever be the kind of friend you deserve?” he said in an anguished tone. “After how I—”

“Will you let me finish?” she snapped at him. His jaw snapped shut so fast she might have laughed if there were literally anything funny about what she needed to say. Annie Edison had finally shut up Jeff Winger and this time she didn’t have to kiss him to do it.

Though, she wasn’t sure becoming such an emotional wreck your friends had to treat you like you were brittle was a great method either. It was a work in a progress.

“You warned me,” she finally blurted out. “You warned me, and I didn’t listen.”

“Annie—”

“And when I got the first letter,” she talked right over him, “I knew I should go to the police. I knew that even if it was some kind of sick joke, I couldn’t take that risk. And if I had, if I had alerted them right away maybe they could have found something. Maybe they could have saved Professor Slater.”

He sucked in a breath and Annie swallowed a gulp of coffee, forcing herself to continue.

“But I didn’t do that and now she’s dead and I have to live with that and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that I’m alive and she isn’t. I didn’t deserve to survive anymore than she did and I—I—” Annie paused again, the sudden tears weren’t surprising, but she didn’t want to cry her way through this. She was sick of crying. When she felt more in control she started again. “I know that it’s my fault. I know that you warned me, and I didn’t listen. I know that I trusted…I trusted…FUCK! I trusted _Rich_ when I shouldn’t have.”

There she had said his name. She was nearly over the worst of it. She could do this. She would get the words out this time before they ate her alive from the inside out.

“So, I know how angry you must have been at me and I’m sorry I failed you like that,” she continued more quietly. “I’ve taken advantage of you and you deserve your life and women who can kiss you without freaking out and I know I’ve—”

“Stop.”

“No, I’m almost done, I’ve—”

“STOP.”

He didn’t raise his voice so much as make it more forceful, but Annie still jumped in her seat. Swiping at her tears she slowly raised her eyes to his, telling herself she was ready for whatever she would see there. Telling herself she would handle the consequences. But nothing could have prepared her for seeing her tears mirrored on Jeff’s face.

He wasn’t sobbing or being dramatic, but as Annie’s watery gaze met his, he swiped at the moisture on his cheeks before practically glaring at her.

“This whole time,” he started, stopped, and then started again. “Have you thought what happened to you was your fault this whole time?”

“Of course it was,” she answered but then sat back quickly when his glare turned practically murderous. “Jeff what are you—”

“He was a _serial killer_ , Annie! He stalked you. He stalked Michelle. He was planning this for who knows how long! How could you…why would you…” Jeff broke off on a growl and began pacing the kitchen. “This was _not_ your fault. None of this was your fault. It was mine.”

Annie’s mouth opened and closed as emotions ping-ponged inside her, too many and too intense for her to hope to process. His fault? He thought this was his fault?

“Fuck off,” she said aghast. “Not everything is about you Jeff Winger.” Annie wasn’t sure why she was so angry. She didn’t even know where the anger had come from. But he couldn’t take the blame—she wouldn’t let him.

“ _I left you_!” It burst out of him in an agonized cry like he’d been holding it back for a lifetime. “I was so jealous Annie—too jealous to listen to you. And then I was so angry at how much you trusted him, how he seemed able to make you smile and I was always so scared I would hurt you, scared I would…let you down. And then I did.”

Something else, some other emotion she couldn’t quite identify mixed in with the anger making it hard for her to keep her focus. “Jeff,” she tried. “But you were right! You were always right about him just…just…just say I told you so!”

A broken sound escaped him then and Annie wished she understood what was happening here. She had meant to apologize, to let him know she would figure it out, that he could go back to his life but now they were—what were they even doing?

His mug hit the counter hard and Jeff came around the corner, his hands tilting her face up until they were looking at each other, until she couldn’t avoid his piercing gaze. When he spoke his voice was harsh, like the emotions inside him were shredding the words as they came out.

“Don’t you get it Annie? This isn’t your fault, none of this is your fault. It never was. I…I…” he closed his eyes and took a breath and Annie could only watch and wait, as trapped by her need to hear what he would say next as she was by the hands still cupping her face.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for so long,” he paused, taking another breath. “Maybe since that first time I kissed you or maybe even before that when you kissed me. But you deserve so much better than me and I know that, and I still can’t seem to let you go. You deserve someone young, and smart, and kind who isn’t so emotionally constipated that he gets angry at you instead of just telling you how he feels. You deserve someone who won’t fail you.”

Annie wondered if she was having an out-of-body experience. Jeff loved her. Jeff _loved_ her. Jeff loved _her_. And then she slammed back into her body and there were no more words as her brain short-circuited.

“It’s not your fault,” Jeff was saying to her. “I know you know that. You told me you talked about that in therapy. It’s not your fault.”

“I told you that because,” fuck she couldn’t seem to catch her breath, “because I wanted you to know I knew it was bullshit. That I knew I’d…that I should have…”

“It’s not your fault,” he said again.

Annie couldn’t hear that, though; she wouldn’t let herself. All the pieces of herself she’d duct taped back together these past few weeks were built around acceptance of that very simple premise: she got herself into this mess and it was up to her to get out of it. It was her fault, ergo, her recovery shouldn’t inconvenience anyone around her. But to hear Jeff say it wasn’t, to hear Jeff say he loved her—Annie knew she needed to get out of there before she lost it. Jeff had seen her cry lots of times but this…Annie felt like her very soul was about to fall apart.

“Jeff, no, I…” she stuttered, starting to pull away from him.

“Annie it’s not your fault,” he repeated and then added, “you’re not broken.”

And those were the words, ironically, that broke her.

There were a finite number of ways a human body could cry, and Annie was pretty sure she’d been through them all at least twice at this point. But there was something different about this one. It felt…cleansing, like a wound being cleaned and bandaged. It fucking hurt and she wanted nothing so much as for it to be over, but when the first tsunami of emotion began to pass Annie noticed a shift in the pain she’d grown used to. She’d known she wasn’t okay—a child would have known she wasn’t okay—but she never noticed how much her silence weighed until it was gone. Jeff didn’t think it was her fault. Jeff wasn’t being nice to her out of pity.

Annie had friends, and those friends loved her. Annie had a life, and that life was worth living. Annie had suffered, more than any person should ever suffer, but she wasn’t dead and that meant she could heal. And for the first time since this whole shitshow began, she felt the fractured timeline that had trapped her start to realign. She was no longer stuck somewhere between the past and the present; Annie finally, truly, felt like she had a future.

A future she could feel less guilty about living.

***

“Annie we’re really sorry we bumped into you like that the other day,” Troy said as he took his seat at the study table.

“We should have assessed the situation before engaging evasive maneuvers,” Abed added.

“Thanks guys,” Annie said with a small smile. “You’ve been good friends.”

“Been? That’s past tense,” Abed looked at Troy. “Why is she talking in the past tense?”

“Why are you talking in the past tense Annie?!” Troy demanded.

“Because I meant through all of…this,” she said with a general shrug. “You know! We’re still friends obviously.”

“Oh whew,” Troy said, sitting back in relief. “I thought you were about to break up with us.”

“I’m not breaking up with anyone,” she reassured them. Just then Britta and Shirley came in, followed by Pierce who was wearing something that looked suspiciously like a…snorkel.

Annie looked at Britta who simply said, “Don’t ask.”

“Today the internet taught me that the air next to your mouth can become contaminated,” Pierce announced, his words slightly muddled by the snorkel. “So, I bought this mouth-air extension for $39.99 and paid $25 for next day shipping. I think it’s really making a difference you guys, you should really get in on this deal before the sale ends.”

“There is no such thing as a ‘mouth-air extension’ Pierce,” Jeff said, taking his seat next to Annie. Turning to her, he gave her a small smile. “Classes good?”

“Oh sure,” she joked. “My favorite part was when Chang crashed through the window in his underwear covered in glue and leaves.”

“That man is a walking horror movie,” Shirley said.

“Heeeeeelllooo human beings!” Dean Pelton announced, sauntering through the door in platform boots that looked to have slinkies welded to the bottom. His outfit was some kind of Mad Max-inspired ensemble that continued the metal theme with springs jingling where they hung off his shirt, sleeves, and pants. “It’s time to ‘spring’ forward! Don’t forget to reset your clocks this weekend!!”

“What are you supposed to be, Tina Turner’s Thunderdome sex slave?” Jeff asked.

“Oh my, if only,” Dean Pelton fanned himself. “I was up all night welding this. I was going to add some strobe lights, but the soldering iron started a small fire in my apartment and then the whole city block had to be evacuated. You know how it goes.”

They all nodded slowly just like the years at this school had trained them to do. Really, what other response was there to Greendale? And that’s why they loved it.

***

“Jeff! You have to pour a little bit of the sauce into the eggs and mix them—if you just pour the eggs straight in they’ll cook!”

“Well…don’t we want them to cook?”

“They’re supposed to be _in_ the sauce not a topping on the sauce,” Annie sighed.

“Look,” Jeff told her, “you said add the eggs, so I added the eggs. If this step required advanced knowledge and careful skill you know it’s beyond my abilities.”

“Learned helplessness is not nearly as charming as you think it is,” Annie told him.

“But I am as charming as I think I am,” Jeff smirked and then leaned in, stealing a quick kiss.

They were still in his apartment, still spending entirely too much time together, and still keeping everything to a PG rating. Well, things definitely moved into PG-13 territory a couple of nights ago, but Annie was slowly relearning what she wanted and when she wanted to stop. And Jeff was becoming a master of teasing her without ever pushing her boundaries. Sometimes she wanted to push for more, she knew Jeff wouldn’t complain, but Annie was terrified of a repeat of that night on the couch. She felt so good where she was here and now—she hadn’t had a flashback in over a week. There were even moments, brief moments admittedly, where she could forget. They weren’t much but it was enough that she was starting to feel like herself again.

But the more she felt like herself the more she craved Jeff’s touch.

They finished dinner and ate it, cleaned up and then found themselves in their usual spots on the couch—Annie doing her homework and Jeff pretending he had none. He wasn’t doing anything, just flipping through channels but Annie kept getting distracted by the way his shirt rode up on one side exposing skin she knew was warm and firm to the touch. He reached down and scratched his stomach, the movement pulling his shirt up farther and she caught a glimpse of his navel and the shadow of hair disappearing beneath his waistband.

Annie thought about how easy it would be to just…straddle him. There was barely a foot of space between them—it wouldn’t even take her a full three seconds. She could imagine the feeling of squeezing Jeff with her thighs, the look on his face when she rolled her hips. Annie had always thought people looked weird during sex, but Jeff’s expressions only made her want more.

“Are you seriously licking your lips while you look at me,” Jeff asked nothing in his body language indicating he’d even been aware of her.

“I wasn’t licking my lips,” Annie defended herself. “I was just…”

“Ogling?”

“Zoning out!”

“Zoning out while you ogled.”

With a sigh Annie slammed her criminal justice book shut and dropped it on the floor along with her pens and highlighters. Jeff turned his head and cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Talk to me Annie.”

Annie took a deep breath and tried to figure out what she wanted. She moved around on the couch, trying to get more comfortable. When did her clothes get so tight? Why was it hot in here?

“Annie…”

“Jeff…” she rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not avoiding you, I’m just…thinking.”

“Right,” Jeff said. “And when you say those thoughts out loud, we call that ‘talking’.”

Annie let out a disgusted sound and finally turned full towards him. Be honest about what you want. Talk through your needs with your partner. Make sure everyone is enthusiastically consenting.

“I want to have sex with you,” Annie stated and, oh, how she wished she had a camera in that moment.

“You—you—you want what now?” Jeff stammered.

“Oh, you heard me,” Annie sighed. “But wait, do you not want to have sex with me?”

“Do I not—Annie I’ve been walking around with various stages of an erection for over a week now,” he exclaimed. “I honestly thought I was too old to sustain this level of horny.”

“Horny?” she laughed.

“Yes, I want to have sex with you,” he told her. “But Annie, are you sure? How would we—what would we—how do you…want to?”

“This is the weirdest conversation,” she told him.

“It’s not,” he said quickly and then amended, “okay it’s not my normal foreplay but maybe it should be. Besides, this could be our normal. Who says we can’t make the rules for ourselves?”

“ _Our_ normal?” she asked with a sly smile.

“Annie you know,” Jeff paused, blushing, and cleared his throat. “You know how I feel about you. And if you want to, really want to, I’m in. I’m all the way there but you don’t have to. You know I’m fine with how things are.”

“Jeff,” she said slowly and then stood up and came to stand in front of him. First, she put her hands on his shoulders and then her right knee came down, and then her left. Jeff let his hands rest loosely on her hips, his fingers tightening slightly as she settled in on top of him. Leaning in she let her lips brush his in a tender kiss, the barest touch of her skin to his but when she pulled back, she could already feel her pulse pick up.

“Annie,” he said in a husky voice. “I need you to tell me what you want and don’t want. And if you say stop, I will stop, no questions asked. But I can’t do this without some direction.”

Annie nodded, chewing on her lower lip. She needed to tell him some things, things he should know before they tried this, but she dreaded the words.

“He used to say my name,” she whispered, her gaze locked on a spot on his chest. She couldn’t look at him while she explained this. “He would chant it over and over again. I usually don’t think of it anymore, but sometimes when someone says my name a certain way or—or if they repeat it I…it can be upsetting.”

“Okay,” he said, tenderly tucking her hair behind her ear. “Anything else?”

“Last time when we,” she paused, chewing her lip again as she thought through the words. “When we were here, on the couch, you remember?”

“Of course, I remember.”

“Well, it was great,” she told him. “I was really enjoying myself but then you touched my chest and…”

“Do you not want me to touch your chest?” he asked softly when she trailed off.

“I don’t…know,” she answered hesitantly, but honestly. “I mean I think I would like it, but he would hurt me by twisting,” she waved vaguely at herself, “and so…I’m not sure.”

“So how about this,” he offered, one hand rubbing soothing circles into her back. “You tell me what you want, and I will ask you if it’s okay before I do anything.”

“And that won’t ruin the mood?”

“Fuck, Annie,” he laughed, “the only mood here is making you feel good.”

“Oh,” she smiled, looking up at him coyly. “That was the right thing to say.”

Jeff leaned in, brushing his lips across hers. “I’ve been told I’m good with my tongue.”

As their lips found each other Annie felt her anxiety evaporate and her arousal spike. Jeff’s hands splayed across her back, holding her to him as she opened, letting him put that tongue of his to good use. With every breath she smelled him, with every passing second she felt him grow harder beneath her. This was Jeff and he loved her and even if Annie had never said the words, she knew she loved him.

His hands dropped to her ass, kneading and squeezing and Annie moaned, undulating her hips against him. He broke the kiss to nibble at her jaw and then her neck. His breath fanned across her skin and he asked, “Is this okay?”

In answer Annie grabbed his face and pulled him up until his eyes bored into hers. “Take me to bed or lose me forever.”

Jeff growled and stood up, carrying her with him and Annie yelped, wrapping her arms and legs around him for stability. He walked them both into the bedroom where he dropped her on the bed, his body following close behind and as his weight settled right where she wanted it Annie let out a long, low moan.

Jeff immediately pulled back. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she smiled. And then, more shyly, “I want you to touch me.”

She swore she felt his dick jump through his pants. “Where?” he asked hungrily.

“Everywhere,” she sighed. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it. I promise.”

In response Jeff used one hand to gently trace the lines of her face, then her neck and collarbones. He leaned in, lips tracing the path of his fingertips and Annie found herself pushing against him needing more contact. With a chuckle he ran one finger down her side, Annie yelped at the ticklish sensation, but then, as his fingers brushed the warm skin of her torso, he looked at her soberly.

“Do you want me to move my hand up or down?”

Annie stared at him for a long moment. “Up,” she wanted to say. Her breasts felt heavy and sensitive under her clothes and she knew if he touched her nipples it would be amazing. But she was nervous too.

“We can stop,” he said seriously. “We can take a break and try again later.”

“No!” Annie said, surprising herself with her vehemence. In a more moderate tone she explained, “I want you to touch me. I want to try. Just…go slow.”

Jeff’s hand started a slow ascent up her stomach and Annie threw her head back, the feeling so intense but so confused by the fear lurking around the edges. “Look at me,” Jeff ordered her. “Be here with me.”

Her breath starting to come in pants Annie locked her gaze on his, her hands tracing his jaw, his neck, his shoulders as he slid his hand inch by torturous inch, higher and higher until finally his fingertips brushed the underside of her breast.

“Okay?” he asked.

Annie nodded. “More.”

Still moving at a snail’s pace Jeff let his hand move up, his fingertips brushed across her nipple and it puckered, pushing against the thin material of her bra. Annie gasped as he did it again and then again. His touch was so light it was barely more than a tease, but she felt like she was balanced on the edge of a knife. Too much and she would tip over but what he was doing wasn’t enough.

“Jeff, I—take my shirt off,” she told him. He pulled back so she could sit up and obliged, pulling the material over her head and tossing it off to the side. Annie reached behind her and unhooked her bra, pulling it off her arms and throwing it in the general direction of her shirt. As she settled back against the bed a smile crept across her face at Jeff’s expression. He was looking at her like he couldn’t believe he was so lucky.

“Okay,” she said, taking his hand in hers and bringing it back up to her breast. He palmed her and she used her own hand to direct him. Something about touching herself with him helped her feel in control, helped her remember this was Jeff. She was safe. And she wanted oh so badly to be here.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, and she nodded her consent. His lips came down on hers, his tongue stroking her mouth while his hand continued to gently knead her breast. Her hand was clutching his more than directing at this point as she began to lose herself in how good it felt.

He broke the kiss and nibbled along her jaw. “Can I kiss your neck?” She nodded again and he nipped along the column of her throat, teasing and soothing with teeth and tongue. Annie was arching into him now, her hips moving in time with each stroke of her nipple.

Jeff lifted his head again and Annie almost couldn’t wait for him to ask the question. “Can I kiss your breasts?”

“Yes,” she said in a long exhale. His lips traced a path down her chest, but he didn’t go where she wanted him. Instead, he kissed around her breast, making her pant with frustrated desire. She looked down at him and their eyes met. “Please,” she breathed.

When his mouth closed over her nipple, Annie was pretty sure she screamed. This feeling was so much more than she remembered it being and still not enough. He nibbled her and strange sounds started bursting out of her. He replaced his mouth with his hand turned his attention to the other breast, lavishing it until both of her nipples were tight and wet and Annie thought she would explode.

“Pants,” she told him.

“What?”

“Pants, pants, pants,” Annie begged.

“Pants what,” Jeff laughed.

“Pants OFF.”

He obliged, rolling off of her and undoing his belt and fly while she practically ripped her own down her legs. Annie reached for her underwear but then his hands here there, stalling hers in place.

“What?” she asked.

“Let me,” he said with a grin. Annie felt her breath catch as Jeff slid the cotton down her legs. When that last barrier was removed, he stroked up the inside of her legs, spreading her wide as he settled his shoulders between them. “Okay?”

“More than okay,” she smiled at him. His fingers traced her inside thighs, his touch so light it nearly tickled and soon she was squirming beneath him. His lips followed kissing up one leg and then down the other then coming back to brush kisses across her mons. Annie’s hands fisted the sheets beneath her as her hips rolled of their own volition, seeking his attention. Jeff’s finger traced between her lips Annie gasped and then moaned.

“Jeff _please_ ,” she begged.

“As milady commands.”

He went to work on her clit first and Annie did scream this time. Her entire universe narrowed to that one little point, and the only thing that mattered was that he didn’t stop. That he never stopped. He switched from licking to suckling and one finger breached her, sliding in and out easily as her arousal heightened. Soon there was a second and then he was feasting on her without mercy while he finger-fucked her into oblivion. Annie didn’t know what she was saying. Annie didn’t care what she was saying. All she wanted was the climax she could feel winding up inside her. Tighter and tighter he wound her and then he turned his hand, fingers crooking so they brushed the part inside of her Annie had been convinced was a myth. She was never so happy to be proven wrong.

Stars exploded behind her eyelids and she was babbling nonsense. She was writhing so hard beneath him he slung one arm across her waist to hold her down. She bucked and begged, and it was too good, too much. She couldn’t take it; it was too intense, but she never wanted it to stop. She would go crazy if he stopped. And then, between one breath and the next, she crested as the orgasm erupted, rippling out across her body. Her legs kicked and she bowed off the bed as her muscles contracted. Still Jeff went on wringing every last drop of pleasure until she fell back against the sheets, sweaty and spent.

He wiped his mouth and moved back up her body, tenderly brushing her hair back and looking down at her so sweetly Annie felt her heart skip a beat.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he looked down at her.

“Jeff,” she breathed his name and then reached up and pulled him down to her, putting into her kiss everything she still hadn’t managed to say. Her satisfaction. Her gratitude. Her love.

“We can stop here,” he said, kissing her brow, her cheek, peppering her skin with his affection.

“What?” Annie asked. “No! I mean, that is, unless you don’t want to keep going?”

The laugh he gave was something between a chuckle and a groan. “I would be _happy_ to keep going,” he said, and Annie noticed him then, hot and throbbing against her skin. With an evil grin she rolled them over, reveling in the shock and desire on his face as she sat on top of him. She leaned down and kissed him gently then reached a hand between them and wrapped a hand around his cock. He moaned into her mouth and she teased him with the hint of a stroke, swiping her thumb across his tip.

“Annie,” he growled, and she smiled while she continued the torture. This was them, just them, always them. She had wanted this for so long and now that they were here it was so much more than she hoped it would be. So much more because this was real. Jeff was really here, and it was her hands drawing those sounds from him. It was her body he yearned for. Sitting up Annie rose on her legs and positioned him, sinking down slowly. They both gasped and she threw her head back in ecstasy as he filled her.

Her rhythm was tentative at first, exploratory as she moved her hips until she found the answer. When she moved just so and then he stroked _right there_. Jeff was tense underneath her, his jaw clenched and his fingers digging into her hips as he held himself still and let her experiment. But she could see how badly he wanted her, and it made her bold. She rode him until their breath was coming in pants and she could see the veins bulging in his neck as he tried to hold back.

And then she leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Fuck me, Jeff.” She didn’t have to ask twice.

With a growl he flipped them back over so that she was underneath him and his hips pistoned until she was gasping with every thrust. That wonderful tension was back, winding tighter and tighter inside her. Her hands came up and her fingernails dug into his back as she sought purchase and tried to hold on. Jeff groaned but then put one hand between them, reaching down until he found her clit and rubbed it furiously as he fucked her. Annie’s eyes rolled back in head and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Suddenly the spring snapped, and her body milked his as her second orgasm tore through her. Jeff kept thrusting and then with a groan he came, his body stuttering to a stop as he rode out his own pleasure.

He rolled to the side as he collapsed, pulling her with him so that she was cradled in his arms. His chest heaved under her hands and Annie blinked slowly waiting for her own system to reboot.

“Holy shit,” she finally sighed.

She felt him shift sleepily underneath her. “Holy shit good or holy shit bad?”

She didn’t stop the chuckle at that—he always was the first to admit he wasn’t as confident as he wanted everyone to think. “Holy shit let’s do that again,” she told him.

“Okay,” he sighed. “Okay good. But not right away.”

“No, not right away,” Annie smiled, pushing up and heading to the bathroom even though all she wanted was to fall asleep right there.

She didn’t take long but when she came back Jeff was already asleep and Annie crawled in next to him, a stupid grin still plastered on her face. She hadn’t smiled like this in…nope, it didn’t matter how long it had been. It only mattered that she was happy now.

Staring up at the ceiling Annie said into the silence, “I just fucked Jeff Winger.”

“Yes, you did,” Jeff mumbled sleepily, rolling over and pulling her back against them so they spooned. “And I will happily let you do it again. Later.”

“Jeff?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“I love you.”

He was quiet for so long she began to think he’d fallen asleep when he whispered back, “I love you too.”


End file.
